Gossip Spyder
by MagicMyth83
Summary: A Teen-Drama starring Sansa & Arya Stark, set in a High School AU. They're young, rich, beautiful and have the world at their feet. They enrol in a posh prep-school following their family's move South, and find themselves making new friends, discovering boys and learn about who they really are. Sansa/ Sandor, Sansa/ Joffrey, Arya/ Gendry, Arya/ Jaqen, Arya/ Sandor.
1. Pilot Episode The South

**Hi, this is my first ever fanfic so please review and let me know what you think! My inspiration came from a certain other, similarly titled teen-drama, and the high-school ASOIAF AU's I've come across on FanFiction. I thought it would be fun to have my fave couples, Sansa & Sandor, Arya & Gendry interact in a teen-drama setting, written from their POV's as well as other guest POV's as the story may require. Character's ages have been increased/ decreased as required.**

**All characters belong to GRRM/ HBO. **

* * *

**Pilot Episode**

"**The South"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Greetings, peeps! It's me again, your friendly neighborhood Spyder. Love me or hate me, you know you can't resist the pull of the tastiest gossip that only I can give you!

I hope you've all had a fantastic summer, but now that it's coming to an end it's time to get ready for another year at Kings Landing Prep! Start of term is only a few days away!

I have big news for you – I have it on good authority that Sansa and Arya Stark have enrolled at Kings Landing! Yes, _those_ Starks! All of you trust fund babies would know that the Starks are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the country. They're set to become even wealthier now that _Stark_ _Industries_ are rumored to be merging with _Baratheon_ _Incorporated_. Respective CEO's Eddard 'Ned' Stark and Robert Baratheon are supposedly old friends that go waaaay back!

I wonder if our very own unofficial Prince of the playground, Joffrey Baratheon, will be personally welcoming the Stark princesses on their first day?

My sources tell me that the Stark girls were previously attending The Mordane School For Girls, and neither have ever been to a co-ed school - girls, let me just put this out there...BOYS, BOYS, BOYS! This whole school is full of them! Let the fun begin!

That's all for now boys and girls...and remember, my eyes and ears are everywhere!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder!

* * *

**Sansa**

"I hate it here," Arya said, "I want to go back to Winterfell Manor."

Sansa turned from her mirror in the new bedroom she now occupied at their new house 'Chateau Meagor', and gave her sister an exasperated sigh.

"Just give this place a chance, Arya, we've only been here _three days._"

"Still, I hate it already." Arya flopped down on Sansa's bed, "We don't know anyone here, and Robb, Theon and Jon are at college up North so we'll hardly get to see them."

"Bran's excited about going to his new middle school." Sansa pointed out, "Even Rickon's happy about going to a new school."

"Yeah, but Bran thinks this whole thing is an adventure and Rickon's too young to know any better."

Sansa wasn't in the mood to listen to her younger sister's whining, especially when she'd been looking forward to moving ever since she'd overheard her parents talking one summer night some weeks ago. She was going to ask her mother for money to buy a new handbag, but something in the tone of her parents' voices made her hesitate outside her father's study.

"Jon Arryn's just died, surely this can't be such a surprise to you?" Catelyn had asked Ned.

"His death means that the deal with Vale Corporations has all but fallen through, but Robert still needs a strong financial backer." Ned replied, "You're right, I should have expected this."

"You've already decided, haven't you?"

"I have."

"You don't sound all that convinced."

"I can't find any arguments against it," there was a rustling, and then the muffled sound of footfalls on carpet. Sansa pictured her father pacing the floor, "I've looked at this from every angle, Cat. Financially, the investment would be sound and I'm predicting impressive returns."

"Couldn't Robert have partnered up with the Lannisters? After all, Cersei's family are hardly paupers."

"No, no. Robert was adamant he didn't want any more Lannisters involved if he could help it. Apparently he's got Lannister nieces and nephews interning all over the place, and his debt to Tywin is in excess of a quarter of a billion dollars."

"So much?" Catelyn gasped.

"That's what's reported in the financials Baelish provided me." Ned muttered, "What I don't know is how much he _isn't_ reporting."

"But you're still going to go through with this?"

There was a small pause, "Yes."

Sansa heard her mother sigh in a way that meant Catelyn had reservations, but wasn't going to argue with her husband's decision.

"It'll mean we'll have to move South, Ned."

"Yes, we'll have to."

"...the girls will have to be taken out of Mordane's and enrolled at King's Landing Prep in time for the new school year. Arya will be starting high school and neither of them have ever been to a co-ed school...Oh no!"

"What?" Ned responded to the alarm in her voice.

"Sansa..._boys!_"

"Jesus!" Ned exclaimed, "Cat, have you had _that _talk with her yet?"

Sansa had been forced to cover her mouth so that they wouldn't hear her gasp. She'd run back to her room, new handbag forgotten, and grinned stupidly at her reflection.

She was doing the same thing now, grinning stupidly at the idea of going to a school that had real live boys in it! She was almost fifteen, and she _knew_ that she was ready to start dating, but Mordane's lack of boys kind of made that difficult to do. There were the occasional mixers with the all-boys schools in the North, but they were few and strictly supervised.

Her mother also tended to be quite over-protective, and as a result they'd had a very sheltered up-bringing.

She was _so_ ready for Kings Landing Prep!

"What are you grinning about?" Arya demanded, "You look like a demented, cross-eyed hyena."

"Shut, up." Sansa snapped, "I'm just excited about going to school with boys."

Arya snorted loudly, "You've been reading too much _Seventeen_ and _Teen Vogue._"

"You read them too," Sansa pointed out, "When you think I'm not looking, I know you peak at them."

Arya blushed, even as she denied it, "I do not! Shut the fuck up, Sansa!" And she got up off the bed and stormed out.

"And you'd better start getting ready!" Sansa called out after her, "The party starts at six!"

Sansa turned back to her mirror and picked up her GHD hair iron and began working the appliance over her auburn waves, trying to tame the fiery mass into a sleek and obedient curtain. She flicked her eyes towards the dress hanging on her closet door and sighed happily.

The Baratheon's were throwing a party for their official welcome in the South, and it was being held at The Red Keep, as the Baratheon mansion was called. It would be Sansa's first grown-up party, and she couldn't wait.

She would finally be meeting Joffrey Baratheon, Robert's eldest son. He was a year older and would be a junior at KL Prep. The pictures she'd seen of him had her veritably swooning. He was _gorgeous_, tall with wavy golden blonde hair and a golden tan to match.

As she dressed, she tried to keep in check the butterflies that had suddenly appeared in her tummy, but nothing was going to wipe the smile off her face.

When her hair had finally been tamed and was swinging straight and shiny down her back, she slipped into the light blue, floor length silk halter-neck style dress and fastened the buttons behind her neck. Her mother had had it custom made for her by an exclusive couturier, so the dress clung to her in the right places yet remained modest around the neckline and exposed back. Her mother had been unmoving on those instructions, regardless that Sansa had tried to bring the neckline down another inch.

She kept her make-up minimal, but made sure her eyelashes were curled and plumped up with mascara so that her blue eyes stood out. At her ears she wore pearl studs, and a gold Y-drop chain that ended in a pearl that nestled at the top of the valley between her breasts. That was calculated, she'd read somewhere that it would draw attention to her _assets_.

Sansa stared at the mounds on her chest in the mirror, and was pleased with what she saw. She'd grown a cup size over the summer, as well as about two inches in height. She was now five-eight, and the proud owner of C-cup breasts.

When she deemed herself ready, she wrapped a shawl about her shoulder and she went downstairs to wait for her family.

Arya came down not long after, and the first thing Sansa noticed was that Arya too had grown breasts, which were just noticeable in the black spaghetti strap mini dress she had on. She'd pulled her hair up into a high ponytail...and wore combat boots on her feet.

"Arya!" Sansa said in dismay.

"What?" she said defensively, "It's bad enough that I have to wear a dress, I'm not prancing around in fucking heels, too!"

"Arya, watch your mouth!" Catelyn Stark walked into the room with Bran and Rickon close behind her, "All four of you, I want you all to be on your best behavior...especially you, Arya."

Sansa hid a smirk.

* * *

**Arya**

Arya fought the urge to backhand her sister as they rode in the limo towards The Red Keep. Father and mother were quietly discussing business, while Bran was engrossed in his Ninetendo DS and Rickon was occupied by the cartoon playing on the screen above him.

Beside her, Sansa kept sighing and _grinning_ like the demented cross-eyed hyena she'd called her earlier. It was so damned _annoying._

She just wanted to be back at Winterfell Manor, where she'd be close to Robb and Jon. Especially Jon. He was her half-brother (father _never_ talked about Jon's mother), and also the only one of her siblings that understood her _completely_.

Jon played guitar, and he'd been teaching her to play some simple chords over the past few months. He'd been surprised by how quickly she'd learned, and had promised to keep giving her lessons. He'd just begun showing her how to play Neil Young's _The Needle And The Damage Done_, one of his favorite songs, when Arya had learned they would be moving.

Jon never finished showing her how to play the song.

She really missed her older brothers. She wouldn't have minded seeing her foster-brother Theon either, though they hadn't been especially close.

"Stop picking at your dress, Arya." Catelyn admonished her, before turning back to speak to her father.

Arya quit picking at the loose thread on the hem of her dress and observed her parents. Catelyn was wearing a dark blue strapless dress with an empire waist, and her auburn hair was swept up elegantly. She wore a diamond pendant at her neck, and diamonds at her ears. Eddard was wearing a dinner suit, and a grim expression on his face.

Arya surmised that her father did not want to be going to this fancy party either.

When they approached the gates of the Baratheon estates, Arya heard Sansa gasp when she first caught site of The Red Keep. The place was _huge_ and imposing, and whoever had built it had designed it to impress.

The whole structure and accompanying buildings was made of some red-colored stone, with covered walkways connecting the buildings, dark glass and ornate iron-railed balconies.

The long cobblestone driveway was illuminated by old-fashioned lampposts, and curved in a wide semi-circle. It seemed to take ages to reach the front door, where a footman waited to open the limo doors.

Father got out first, who then helped mother, Sansa and Arya alight from the limo. Bran and Rickon minded their manners as they were led into the foyer where the Baratheons were waiting, having been informed of their arrival.

Mother and Father were greeted warmly, and there were hugs and air-kisses all around. There were quiet a lot of people in the room, most were adults.

Arya groaned inside her head. _This party is so going to suck!_

Robert Baratheon was a tall, fat man with a black beard and a loud laugh. His wife Cersei was an icy golden-blonde whose smile never quite reached her eyes. Behind her was a handsome golden-blonde man who was identified as Jaime Lannister, Cersei's twin brother.

Introductions were being made, and she noted with disgust that Sansa was batting her eyelashes at Joffrey Baratheon.

"This is Sansa, our oldest daughter."

There were murmurs around the room, as people all turned to look at Sansa.

Tall, beautiful, auburn-haired and Tully-blue eyed Sansa.

Sansa who could do no wrong.

Perfect Sansa.

Arya refused to allow herself to be envious of how gorgeous her sister looked in her blue silk dress. _No one is ever going to call you pretty, or beautiful, so just build a bridge and get over it._

"...and this is our youngest daughter, Arya."

"My goodness!" Robert Baratheon exclaimed loudly, causing Arya to jump, "She's the spitting image of Lyanna!"

"Aunt Lyanna was pretty." she heard herself say before she could stop herself.

Robert laughed, "You're right, little girl. That indeed she was!"

Arya frowned, not pleased.

They were then introduced to Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. Myrcella was the same age as Arya, and Tommen was the same age as Bran and would be going to the same school together.

Arya didn't like the look of Joffrey at all, and not because the older boy wasn't handsome – Joffrey was very goodlooking. Arya just had a feeling that the guy knew it as well, and she didn't like cockiness as a trait. There was also something _mean_ about the expression in his eyes, and that set her on edge more than anything else.

Myrcella was shy and kept trying to hide her face in her golden curls, while Tommen was immediately distracted by the game Bran was playing on his Ninetendo DS. A nanny was produced from somewhere, and Bran, Rickon and Tommen were left in the woman's care for the evening.

"Joff," Cersei said to her son, "Sansa and Arya will be starting at King's Landing Prep when the term begins on Monday. I'm sure you'll be a gentleman and make them welcome, won't you?"

"Of course mother," he'd replied, and turned to eye Sansa.

Arya rolled her eyes.

They were led through the house, which was just as impressive on the inside as it was on the outside, and into the garden where a marquee had been erected. There were even more people out here, and she forced herself to keep smiling as more introductions were made.

Sansa seemed to take it all in her stride, her smile never faltering even as more eyes flocked to observe her.

"Joffrey, please introduce Sansa and Arya to your friends while we wait for the first course," Robert instructed him, "I must take Mr and Mrs Stark to meet some important people."

"Of course father." Joffrey turned to them as the adults walked away, "Ladies, please follow me."

Arya followed behind Sansa, Myrcella and Joffrey as he led them towards a rose covered gazebo at the other end of the garden.

"How are you liking it here in the South, so far?" Joffrey asked them, "I'll bet you're happy to be a lot warmer?"

"Oh, yes...the weather here is fantastic!" Sansa replied.

"I don't know how you stand the cold in the North." Joffrey continued.

They reached the gazebo, and Arya saw three people already there. Two teenage boys, and one very tall and broad man whose back was to them. She took a few steps closer, and she blinked when the tall man turned around.

Sansa gasped nearby, but quickly recovered.

The tall man was still a young man, but one side of his face – his left side – was terribly burned and disfigured. He looked down at them coldly, and something like a sneer curled his lip when he heard Sansa's gasp.

Joffrey stopped at the steps and introduced them.

"Sansa and Arya, I want you to meet Sandor Clegane, also known as The Hound, as well as Boros Blount and Meryn Trant. They're all on the football team, like me."

Arya said something appropriate in response, and Sansa engaged them in small talk like only she could. Pointless chatter was another thing Arya had no talent for.

Instead she found herself staring at the ugly burned brute, wondering how his face got so fucked up. He was ridiculously tall, about six-five, or six-six of solid muscle. He was probably a linebacker. She must have been watching him too long, as he looked up when he sensed her staring and glared at her just as he'd done to Sansa when she'd gasped.

_You don't scare me,_ she thought as he scowled. He only broke the stare when Joff asked him a question.

"Hound, who are we playing for the first game?"

"Braavos Academy." he replied, his voice a deep rasp.

"You'll be coming to watch us," Joff stated to Sansa as though it was a given, "It's always nice to have a pretty girl cheering for me!"

Sansa's smile became saccharine at his words, and again Arya wanted to hit her.

"Coach Selmy's been making us do two-a-days over the summer to get us ready for the season..." Joff continued.

Myrcella made several attempts to speak to her, but she wasn't really in the mood for conversation and her responses were clipped. Myrcella soon gave up trying.

Arya half listened to the stupid babble between her sister, Joffrey and his friends – except the big ugly one, he didn't say much either.

"Sansa's a sophomore this year, and Arya's a freshmen," Joffrey said, "Trant and I are juniors, while Hound and Blount are seniors."

"I'm so glad we got to meet you all before we start at Kings Landing Prep," Sansa commented, "Starting at a new school can be quite scary."

"Don't worry, I'll look after you." Joffrey's eyes travelled down Sansa's body, and she remained oblivious to the intent behind his eyes.

_Ugh_...

She was all too happy when they were called for the start of the meal. She had to stop herself from bolting towards the marquee.

* * *

**Sandor**

"The redhead's got a nice set of tits on her," Joff said as the girls walked ahead of them towards the marquee, "What do you think, dog? Do you think the carpet will match the drapes?"

"Don't care. Not into redheads." Sandor replied.

Although, he was definitely into tits and he was careful to keep his eyes lowered so no-one could see him checking out the girl's rack. _Gotta be C cups, no bigger, _he thought.

He also liked taller girls, and a pretty face was always a bonus. Sansa Stark was blessed with both height and looks, and he could appreciate that about the spoilt, little rich girl.

"You're going to ask her out, aren't you?" Trant asked Joff.

"Hell, yeah!" Joff grinned, "I can't have someone else getting a piece of _that_ before me."

"Assuming she puts out, of course." Blount added.

"What do you mean by _assuming_?" Joff made a noise of disbelief, "She'll put out for me. They all do...in the end."

Sandor's fingers unconsciously tightened into a fist at Joff's words. He looked at the redhead again, and immediately knew that the girl wouldn't stand a chance against Joffrey's advances. The guy could be extremely…persuasive… when he had a mind to be.

He tugged at the collar of the black dress shirt he wore, inwardly cursing the fact he was wearing a tailored jacket and trousers when he would much rather be in jeans and a hoodie. The guys had tried to make him wear a dinner suit like they were wearing, but he'd threatened to separate their limbs from their bodies and they'd compromised and let him wear a plain black jacket with a black shirt and _no tie._

He was so fucking uncomfortable, and couldn't wait for the night to be over.

Joff annoyed the shit out of him, most days, but the guy was the only one who seemed to want him around – he wouldn't call him a friend, he had no respect for him or trust in him – but there was a mutual understanding between them, he supposed.

Joff needed bigger, tougher thugs to do his dirty work. Robert Baratheon's son was too much of a wuss to get his own hands bloody, and as a result Sandor never lacked for human punching bags to take out his aggression on. Everyone already thought him a monster anyway, so who was he to disappoint them?

Sandor's father also happened to work for Joff's grandfather, Tywin Lannister at _Casterly Rock Drilling & Excavation_. Old man Clegane was always overseas working, and almost never called to check on him. His dad hired a housekeeper to come in and keep the house tidy and make sure there was a meal in the fridge. Emails were only ever sent if he needed something signed for school. He came home once a year, if at all. Sandor didn't care, so long as his dad continued to deposit money into his account every month so he could pay bills.

Other than that, the old man may as well be dead to him.

With his brother Gregor now in college and living in dorms, he had the house to himself, and that was how he preferred it.

Sandor, Trant and Blount were seated at a different table to the side of where the Baratheons and Starks were placed. However, Sandor found that he had a clear view of the redhead Stark girl from his seat and found himself watching her every so often as the meal progressed.

As he had done earlier when the younger Stark sister had been watching him, Sansa must have sensed his stares as she did occasionally glance at him, only to look away quickly. He didn't blame her, but it still rankled.

He was ugly as sin, and it grated him when girls couldn't look at him properly, let alone pretty girls like Sansa. The feeling quickly turned to anger, and the scowl returned to his face.

He also heard bits and pieces of the conversations she was having with the people around her, and he quickly concluded that the girl was utterly _clueless_.

Or she was damn good at pretending to be dumb. Joff was feeding her the stupidest lines, and the girl was falling for every one of them. He remembered hearing something about the Stark girls going to an all-girls school up North.

_Makes fucking sense, it explains why she's so easy to fool._ He shook his head at the train of his thought. _Why do you fucking care? You don't even know this girl._

Suddenly not hungry, he got up from his seat and told Trant and Blount he was going to take a leak, but instead he went in search of a gullible waiter who he could trick into giving him alcohol.

It didn't take him long to find one, and soon he'd finished two glasses of red wine and was on this third when he spotted a flash of blue silk gliding past him where he stood in a darkened alcove, and into the house.

He waited just long enough to finish his drink, before he went into the house to investigate. He saw her down a dimly lit hallway, outside what he knew to be the downstairs powder room, but instead of coming back out the way she had come, she took a detour towards a flight of stairs at the end of the hall.

_Where are you going?_

Sandor quietly followed. He'd been a regular visitor of The Red Keep since being introduced to Joffrey three years before, and he knew the layout of the main house well enough to be able to navigate in the dark.

Reaching the landing at the second storey, he saw her entering a room he knew to be one of the many sitting rooms in the house. He followed her, and when he entered the room he found her facing a grim looking man in a dark suit.

"...sorry, I didn't mean to barge in." she was saying to the man in front of her, who didn't say a word.

Sandor quietly came up behind her, just as she began to back away from the grim unspeaking man. He placed his hands on her shoulders to stop her colliding into him, noting the warmth and smoothness of her skin under his palms, and silkiness of her fiery hair that caught in his fingers. She startled at his touch and turned around, out of his hands, eyes widening when she saw him.

_Blue eyes._

"You're shaking," he rasped, "Do I scare you that much?"

She didn't answer him.

"Or is it _him_ that scares you?" he gave a nod to the man in front of them, "He scares me too, sometimes!"

Sansa looked from him, to the grim man, then back to him, her expression uncertain.

"She's with me, Mr. Payne." Sandor finally said to the grim man.

The expression on the grim man's face became even more unfriendly, but he eventually moved to leave the room, without saying a word.

"Who was that?" Sansa asked, again turning to him but not looking at his face.

"That's Mr. Payne, he's part of Mr. Baratheon's security team."

"Why wouldn't he speak to me?"

"He doesn't have a tongue," he replied, "Lost it in some freak accident he was in years ago."

"Oh, that's horrible." Sansa shuddered quietly, "I thought no one was in here...Mr. Payne just came out of nowhere."

"What _are_ you doing in here?" he asked.

She moved towards the open doorway that led to one of the The Red Keep's many iron-railed balconies and stepped out into the night air. Below them, the garden was buzzing with elegantly dressed people and the sound of violins from a quartet playing somewhere they couldn't see. There were lights strung up in some of the trees, and lanterns hanging from branches that lit up the place like some kind of magical fairy-land.

Further down, past the line of carefully manicured hedges and rosebushes, they could make out the ocean where moonlight glimmered over the water.

"I..I wanted to see what the view would be like from up here." she replied, and gave him a shaky smile.

His presence was unnerving her, that much he could definitely tell, and he didn't want to stay where he wasn't wanted.

"View's better from the next floor," he said gruffly.

"Clegane?" A loud voice called from behind him.

Sandor and Sansa both looked towards the sitting room entrance and found a tall, _very_ handsome dark-haired young man standing in the doorway, "Who have you got there with you?"

"Sansa Stark," Sandor said, nodding towards her.

The young man strode over and claimed one of Sansa's hands between his own.

"Miss Stark, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Renly Baratheon, the much younger and undoubtedly better looking brother of your host this evening."Renly smiled at the girl, who smiled right back, her discomfort in Sandor's presence quickly displaced by the arrival of the other man.

"You're Robert Baratheon's brother?" Sansa wondered, and Sandor could see her trying to work out how old Renly was in her head, "But, why didn't we meet you earlier?"

"Because, I wasn't sure I was coming," Renly shrugged, "It's quite a drive from college, but now I'm glad I made the trip!"

Predictably, the girl blushed at the compliment.

Sandor cleared his throat, feeling like a third wheel, acutely aware of the difference between himself and the youngest Baratheon.

"I'll leave her with you, Baratheon. She was admiring the view from the balcony."

"Certainly," Renly didn't even look at him.

Without another word or glance, Sandor left the room and went hunting for the same stupid waiter and another glass of alcohol, wondering why the hell he'd followed her in the first place.

* * *

**Gendry**

Gendry parked his new car in the student lot, switched off the engine and took a breath, readying himself. Then he grabbed his backpack and locked his car, before staring up at the impressive facade of Kings Landing Prep.

He wondered where he should go. It was first day of term, and his first day at a new school. He studied the kids walking past him, and the other cars being parked in the lot. Expensive cars, driven by rich kids in expensive designer clothes, he noted.

_I shouldn't be here_.

It was a thought that had crossed his mind several times over the last two months. The first time had been when his foster parents had received a notice from some lawyer, telling them to take Gendry to see them. So the Mott's had taken him to the city and Gendry had sat in a posh office as a stranger talked, and turned his fucking life upside down.

"You've been left quite a substantial sum of money, Mr. Waters." the lawyer had said, "I'm not at liberty to say who your benefactor is, but what I will say is that you're being handed a chance to start over, and to make something of yourself."

Gendry had stared at the skinny man, not really comprehending what he was being told.

"It also means the Mott's will benefit from your change of fortune." the lawyer had continued, "I understand you've been living with the Mott's for the last six years, and from what you've told me they've been exceptional foster parents."

It was true, they'd treated him well enough, but still they weren't his real family. Yet, of the many foster-families he'd been charged to, he guess he liked them the best.

"How will they benefit?" he'd asked.

"Your benefactor has left some pretty specific conditions, and unless followed, you won't be entitled to a single dollar. However, if you accept, the Mott's are also entitled to receive a separate sum of money so that they can continue being your foster parents until the time you are legally emancipated."

"How much are we talking about?"

"For the Motts?" the lawyer named a sum of money that made Gendry's mouth go dry, "As for your entitlement..."

Gendry's head had spun when he finally processed how many digits were in the number the lawyer told him.

"Name the conditions." he'd finally said.

He'd gritted his teeth as he was told, but it hadn't taken him long to agree to them. The Mott's had been good to him, and the money would allow them to pay off their debts, and put their two kids into good schools.

_I shouldn't be here._

The second time he'd thought that was the day Mr. Mott had taken him to a car dealership to buy his first car, outright in cash. Most seventeen year olds he knew drove second-hand Hondas and Toyotas.

But, no. His first car was a brand new white BMW 120i Coupe.

He'd balked at the price, and the cost of insurance, but Mr. Mott had said it was okay. Gendry had money now, and if he was going to fit in then he'd need a car like this.

_I really shouldn't be here_.

Kings Landing Prep was one of the conditions the lawyer had mentioned. He was to get a good education, and go to college. Make something of himself.

Mr. Mott had also insisted he get a haircut, and Mrs. Mott had made him buy some new clothes before the term started. So now he stood, in brand new jeans and his black hair spiked with gel, wondering which way the administration office was.

Seeing as it was the first day, he figured he couldn't possibly be the only new kid in the school. He made his way up the stairs that led from the student lot, and followed two girls that had just entered through the front gate.

One was a tall, pretty redhead and the other was younger, pixie-like and diminutive, dark-haired and looked about thirteen. Both wore similarly lost expressions on their faces.

"...Do you even know where you're going?" the small one asked the tall one.

They were following a winding path that led up a hill towards what looked like the main building. King's Landing Prep had been founded some four hundred years before, with Gothic style architecture dominant in the high arches, gargoyles and flying buttresses. There were about a dozen buildings that Gendry could see, with interconnecting covered pathways.

To his right, past the student lot was the football field and bleachers. To his left were gardens, interspersed with benches and tables that were occupied by students.

One of them was occupied by a group of four boys, all of them wearing letterman jackets. White wool, with two bands of yellow-gold along the cuffs and hem. Three of them had their backs turned, and Gendry was able to read their names across their backs, written in yellow thread three inches high. BARATHEON, BLOUNT, and TRANT.

The tallest and biggest one – and Gendry did a double-take when he saw his face – spotted someone, and the other three turned around. The letters KLP were embroidered on the left breast of their jackets.

"Oh, look!" the tall redhead giggled, "There's Joffrey."

The cocky looking blonde with BARATHEON on his jacket raised his arm in a greeting.

_Jocks. Why do they always get the pretty girls?_

The hulking one with the mangled face turned his back, and across it was the name CLEGANE. He had straight black hair that he wore long to his shoulders, and swept over in an attempt to cover his scars and the apparent patch on the left side of his head where no hair grew.

"Motherfucker..." the little dark-haired girl whistled in front of him, "He's even uglier in daylight!"

"Arya!" the redhead exclaimed, "That's not polite."

"No, but its true! _Sansa_."

"Keep your voice down!" the redhead named Sansa shushed, "He might hear you."

Arya snorted, and Gendry bit down on his tongue to keep from smiling.

"I don't care if he hears," Arya said, "I know, I'll tell him to his face!"

"Don't you dare!"

Arya made as though to run towards the group, and Sansa began to threaten her in a panic.

"...I'll tell mother!"

"Go ahead. What's she going to do?"

"I'll tell father, too."

"He listens to mother, so what's he going to do?"

Gendry found himself calling out, "Excuse me."

Both girls turned around at the sound of his voice.

"Can we help you?" Arya looked up at him, and Gendry noted she had grey eyes, slightly too big for her face. Like a doe.

"Yeah," he caught up with them, and now both girls had to look up at him, "I was hoping you could tell me where the administration office is?"

"You're new?" Arya asked him.

"Yep, first day."

"Then we can go and find it together," Arya stepped to his side, "My sister here will be fine with _Prince_ Joffrey."

"Arya..."

"No way, Sansa. I'm not hanging around with that bunch of brainless jocks." Arya made to keep walking, "Enjoy your first day, and don't wait for me. I'll find my own way home this afternoon."

"Fine, suit yourself."

The redhead veered to the left and made her way towards the table where the jocks were waiting.

"Where is she going? Who's that with her..?" Gendry heard them ask, but he didn't hear her reply.

Amused and slightly bewildered, Gendry followed Arya up the path.

"I'm Arya, by the way. Arya Stark." she glanced up at him, pushing her hair away from her face.

"Gendry Waters." he replied, "Pleased to meet you."

"You too," Arya said, remembering her manners.

Where had he heard the name Stark before?

"What grade are you in?" she asked, "I'm a freshman."

"I'm a junior."

"Oh...do you know anyone else here?"

"No, I don't know anyone. Just you now, I guess."

"In that case, do you mind if I sit with you at lunch?" she mused.

"Not keen to sit with your...sister, did you say?" he struggled to see any familial resemblance between the taller redhead and the tiny girl beside him who couldn't have been more than five-two.

"She's not so bad. It's that Joffrey Baratheon that she's mooning over that I can't stand! I mean, she only just met him two days ago!"

"Shit." Gendry just made a realization.

"I know!"

"Not about your sister, I meant about something else." he'd stopped walking, and gazed down at his apparent new friend, "Stark and Baratheon."

"Yeah..?" Arya raised as skinny shoulder, "What?"

"Your father's Eddard Stark."

"I know that,"

"And that guy was Joffrey Baratheon...my foster-dad works for _Baratheon Incorporated_."

"I bet many of the parents of the kids who go here do. What about it?"

Gendry pulled himself together, knowing how stupid he must have sounded to Arya.

"Nothing, never mind." he finally said.

_I definitely shouldn't be here._

What the hell was a kid from the wrong side of the tracks doing in this posh school, befriending the daughter of one of the richest men in the country?

Arya shrugged and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'stupid' as they climbed the steps of the first building they reached, where she asked directions from the first person they came across. They finally made it to the administration desk, and each were given schedules and allocated a locker.

They helped each other find their respective lockers, before Arya made to go to her homeroom.

"Wait for me in the quad at lunch, okay?" she asked...or was that ordered? Gendry had a feeling she was telling him, not asking him.

He found that he didn't mind.

Gendry went to his homeroom, and there he met another new kid who introduced himself as Hot Pie. What his actual name was, Gendry couldn't even pronounce, let alone spell it. He had a class with Hot Pie, and one with Joffrey Baratheon, and after listening to the guy mouth-off at everyone and everything it was easy to see why Arya disliked him.

At lunch time, Arya was waiting for him in the quad with a freckled ginger-haired boy who introduced himself as Mycah Butcher. With Hot Pie joining them, the newly made foursome found an unoccupied table and shared their first meal together.


	2. Episode 2 Making Friends

**Episode 2**

"**Making Friends"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Good morning, girls and boys of King's Landing Prep! It's six o'clock in the morning and I'm wide awake! Why is my first post of the morning so early, you ask? Well, get a look at the new pics on my gallery! It looks like there could definitely be a new romance blossoming between Joffrey Baratheon and Sansa Stark, if the snaps my anonymous source has taken is anything to go by! Doesn't she look absolutely fab in ice-blue silk? I think so!

The 'Battle Of The Bands' competition has just been announced, with the first heats set to be in six weeks time. Will our home-grown rock band 'Brotherhood Without Banners' be entering the competition? Lead singer, Beric Dondarrion, has been very tight-lipped about the topic. How are you going finding a replacement guitarist, Beric? The hunt is on!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa shrieked loudly as she saw the first photo on the website. Arya ran into her room seconds later.

"What is it?" Arya asked, hair still unbrushed.

"Look at this!" Sansa pointed to her laptop, "Just, take a look!"

Arya frowned as she walked over and peered at the website her sister was shrieking about.

"...Oh my God! I can't believe there are pictures on the net!"

"Who the hell is The Gossip Spyder?" Arya asked, even as she began clicking on links.

"It's someone at school...or someone who knows people at the school, spreading gossip and school chatter, and...photos!"

"Where the hell did they get these shots?" Arya asked as she saw pictures of Sansa and Joffrey taken at the party at The Red Keep.

"There were so many people there, it could've been anyone. It could've been this Gossip Spyder herself, or himself..." Sansa replied.

"Fuck! There's stuff here about _everyone_!" Arya exclaimed, impressed, "You can trace Joff's entire dating history on here..._You've already read it, haven't you?_"

Sansa didn't deny it, she had. She'd heard about the website from girls talking in the girl's bathroom at school the day before, so she'd Googled it, and had been intrigued at first...then horrified at finding her own name mentioned, and her picture as well, linked to Joffrey's. Even their enrolment at King's Landing Prep had been announced on the site.

"I don't like this, Arya," she bit into her lip, "I feel so, exposed."

"Then don't read the postings," her little sister snapped, "Regardless, people gossip, at least this way you get a chance to correct the stuff being said about you."

"What do you mean?"

"If this Gossip Spyder reports the wrong thing, you can always send a message anonymously and correct what was said about you. It looks like the Gossip Spyder reports _everything_ that everyone says...look."

Sansa read the entry Arya was pointing to –

_Hello peeps, just an update on a post from last week where I reported that Highgarden Prep's star cheerleader Margaery Tyrell was rumoured to be moving South with her football hero older brother Loras – turns out this isn't the case, for now...Loras is already here on his own, residing at King's Landing College dorms. My sources admit they were mistaken on the initial info..._

"I still don't like it." Sansa pouted, but Arya had had enough.

"Doesn't matter what you like, you're going to be gossiped about." Arya pushed away from Sansa's table.

"What if it's you, next time? What if this Spyder says stuff about you?"

"Then I'll go and find this Spyder and fucking _kill_ him." Arya left the room, leaving Sansa to fret about the photos on the internet.

She sat back down and scrolled through the photos, seeing Joff's smile and herself, indeed looking fab as the Gossip Spyder had said. She wasn't vain, not really, but she knew that people found her pretty.

She sighed when she read the post again. _What romance could there possibly be? He hasn't asked me out._

Then she saw another photo of Joff, but it wasn't his face that made her stop scrolling down the screen. It was the person standing behind him, the big, scary looking guy with the scarred face. Sandor Clegane.

He really was frightening to look at. She remembered her reaction the first time she'd seen him, and she cringed. It hadn't been polite of her to gasp loudly, but he'd stepped out of the shadow all menacing in black, and she hadn't been able to stop herself. He'd scowled at her, and she'd felt awful.

Then he'd stared at her through most of dinner, until he'd disappeared before the final course. She'd been so uncomfortable knowing that he was looking at her, and though she'd tried to meet his eyes, she couldn't.

The photo of him had been taken front-on, showing both sides of his face. He was supposed to be a senior, eighteen years old at the most, but he looked older. Harder. Tougher.

The normal side of his face couldn't exactly be called handsome, Sansa decided. Yet there was something...arresting about the gauntness of his cheek, sharp cheekbone, slightly hooked nose and black brows.

The other side, however, was difficult to look at even in a photograph. He kept the left side of his face covered with his long black hair, but it couldn't completely hide the shiny, black and red scar tissue that remained of his cheek and brow. The corner of his lips was scarred, but it was just a slightly darker shade than the rest of his mouth. Part of his neck and throat were also scarred.

_What happened to you? _She wondered.

He had his eyes lowered, and she realized she didn't know what color they were. Even when he'd found her in the sitting room and rescued her from Mr. Payne, she still hadn't managed to look him in the eyes. She didn't know how she could be so unnerved by a teenage guy she'd just met.

She'd have to be more polite to him next time, she thought. He was Joffrey's friend, after all.

Sansa went downstairs to join her family for breakfast, resolved to try and be friendlier to Sandor Clegane.

Her father looked up from his newspaper when she sat down at the table, "Good morning, Sansa."

"Good morning father, will you be taking us to school today?" Sansa asked, reaching for a plate of croissants.

"I will, if you can finish your breakfast in the next fifteen minutes," Ned replied, "By the way, how are you both finding your new school."

"Fine," Arya replied, "There's a football game this Friday, can we go?"

"Oh, yes father, can we? The school varsity team will be playing the university team. It's supposed to be a friendly match." Sansa added.

Catelyn and Ned shared a look, "We'll have to see, you won't be going on your own."

"My friends are going," Arya said, "I'm sure they'll give me a ride."

"Oh, you've made friends already?" Catelyn sounded surpised.

"Not everyone thinks I'm an annoying pest," Arya gave Sansa a telling glare, "So can we?"

"I suppose," Ned shrugged, "I can have the driver pick you up after the game."

"No thanks, father," Sansa replied, "Joffrey said he'll make sure I get home safely."

"And what about you, Arya?" Ned asked.

"Gendry will drive me home." she shrugged.

"How old is this Gendry? He can't be a freshman if he's got a car." Catelyn observed.

"That's because he's not a freshman. He's seventeen and he's a junior I met the first day of term," Arya finished her breakfast and got up from the table, "Let me know when you're ready to leave, father."

As Arya disappeared down the hall, Sansa noted that her father was giving her mother a worried look.

"Maybe you should have _that_ talk with her, too." he said to Catelyn.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Catelyn replied gravely, "She'll be fourteen in a few weeks."

Sansa had a good idea of what _that_ talk entailed, but just thinking about it made her squirm, so she pretended ignorance and ate in silence.

When their father dropped them off at King's Landing Prep's gates, Arya quickly disappeared towards the student lot, and Sansa saw her waving to a fat boy, a skinny ginger-haired boy, and the muscular junior who was leaning against the hood of his car. Arya herself was dressed much like a boy, wearing jeans and a blue sweatshirt that disguised the curves she was developing. If she didn't have a long ponytail, she could have been mistaken for a boy.

Sansa looked around, hoping to see Joffrey waiting for her, but there was no one to meet her so she walked to her locker by herself. There was a group of girls crowded around the notice board, blocking her way.

"What's going on?" Sansa asked the nearest girl beside her, recognizing her from her homeroom class.

The girl turned towards and she smiled at Sansa, "They're having auditions for the choir."

"Choir?" Sansa parroted, "I didn't know King's Landing Prep had a choir."

"KL Prep's football team isn't the only team around here that wins trophies!" the girl laughed. She was very pretty, with brown eyes and dark hair, "I'm Jeyne Poole, by the way."

"Sansa Stark."

"I know who you are…everyone kinda does."

"Oh."

"Not that it's a bad thing," Jeyne continued, "Everyone here wishes they were more popular."

"But I haven't done anything, why would I be popular?" Sansa wondered.

"You're popular because of who you are," Jeyne was giving her a funny look, as though she'd said something weird, "And also because you're dating Joffrey Baratheon."

"What?" Sansa felt her cheeks color.

"That's what I read on Gossip Spyder's page this morning." Jeyne grinned.

"But, I'm not dating him…" Sansa rushed to say, "He hasn't even asked me out."

"But he will." Jeyne said matter-of-factly.

Sansa didn't want to get her hopes up, but she smiled anyway, "So, can anyone audition for this choir?"

"If you can sing, yeah." Jeyne fished a pen out of her bag and wrote her name on the sign-up sheet on the board.

"Let me borrow your pen." Sansa said, and wrote her own name under Jeyne's.

At lunch that day, Sansa joined a surprised Jeyne at her table.

"You want to eat with me?" Jeyne asked, incredulous.

"And why not?"

"Because, you're Sansa Stark."

Sansa rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but that doesn't make me a snob," her mother as well as Miss Mordane herself had taught her better than that, "Besides, there's no sense in both of us eating alone."

"You're not what I expected," Jeyne eventually said, "You didn't even know me until a few hours ago, and now you're sharing a bench with me."

"It's called making friends," Sansa frowned, "Unless, you'd rather I didn't..?"

"No, no! That's not what I meant," Jeyne laughed, before she grew serious, "I'm only at this school because I won an academic scholarship."

Sansa didn't comprehend exactly what Jeyne was trying to tell her.

Jeyne sighed, "Look around you, Sansa. All the kids here are from wealthy families. They all drive around in expensive cars or get chauffeured around. All their parents belong to some exclusive country club, and everyone wears expensive clothes and have expensive pastimes like riding horses or going skiing in Aspen in the winter."

Sansa bit her bottom lip. She did ride horses, and she did enjoying skiing, though she wasn't good at either. Her parents were members of the same club as Robert Baratheon, and she was currently wearing a Miu Miu blouse, Stella Mccartney skirt and toting a Tory Burch bag.

"…I don't quite fit in, not really," Jeyne was saying, "My father's just a manager at a local hotel, not the owner. There's no way he can afford to send me here. Other kids know that."

"That doesn't matter to me." Sansa said honestly.

Jeyne gave her another curious look, but she smiled again, "Okay, I believe you!"

Sansa grinned back, and soon they were discussing what song they each would be choosing as their audition piece. The notice on the board had said only that they needed to choose a song that would showcase their vocal abilities in full.

"I was thinking of doing a song from a Broadway musical…_Defying Gravity_, maybe," Jeyne shrugged, "But I can't help thinking everyone will be choosing something from _Wicked."_

Sansa agreed.

She had no idea what she was going to sing, let alone whether she'd actually be good enough to land a spot in the choir, but she'd always loved singing and she played the piano. _I may as well have a go._

* * *

**Arya**

"Sansa! Stop that bloody noise you're making!" Arya yelled down the hallway later that night.

"I'm auditioning for the choir, I have to practice!" her sister yelled back.

"It's no good, don't bother!"

Arya shut her bedroom door with slam, and turned on the speakers beside her computer before drowning out the sound of Sansa's voice entirely with the sound of _The Smiths._ Then she logged onto her Facebook account. Almost immediately, a message popped up from Mycah Butcher.

_"Hey, check this out!"_

He sent her a YouTube link, and Arya clicked on it. She stopped her music so she could watch the clip, which was grainy and wobbly, as though someone had recorded it on their phone.

It was some band, teenage boys, playing at what looked like a basement or warehouse somewhere. They were good, and reminded her of _The Kooks_ in sound. Their guitarist though, was seriously awesome.

Not for the first time did she wish she could've continued her guitar lessons with Jon. Her fingers suddenly itched, remembering the feel of a guitar's frets. She sighed, then turned back to the video on her screen.

_"Who are they?" she_ asked Mycah.

_ "A garage band called _TheApprentices_…recognize the guitarist?" _

Arya played the clip again, this time she maximized the screen and watched only the guitarist. He was tall, muscular, had shaggy black hair and was kinda cute.

"Oh, my God!" she shouted, and quickly dragged her mouse over to rewind and freeze the frame.

Forgetting the blinking message box, she grabbed her phone and dialed Mycah.

"Is that _Gendry_?" she demanded as soon as he'd answered.

"You bet," Mycah replied, "Except, he's known as 'The Bull' on stage."

"How did you find this?" Arya laughed, "How come he didn't tell us he was in a band?"

"That's because he's not in the band anymore, apparently they broke up when the older guys moved away for college. I found this purely by chance while I was looking up the likely bands that would compete in this year's Battle of The Bands comp."

"Oh, it's too bad he's not in a band anymore, he's _really _good."

"I was trying to talk him into auditioning for Beric Dondarrion's band. They're looking for a new guitarist." Mycah said.

"Who?"

"This senior at school," Mycah explained, "I saw flyers up in the performing arts building, and their advertising on their Facebook page, too."

"Under what name? I want to have a look." Arya sat in front of her computer again.

"The band is called _Brotherhood Without Banners."_

Arya found the page, and saw the post. Auditions were afterschool the following day, at some place called The Hollow. They were asking people to send in videos, and only those who got call backs would get asked to the audition.

"What did Gendry say when you asked him?"

"He looked interested, but he kinda hesitated."

"Did he say why?"

"He didn't say, and I didn't push it."

Arya was silent for a moment, thinking, weighing her options but not really dwelling on the consequences. _It's not too late._

"Fuck it," she decided, "Mycah, can you download this clip of Gendry and then edit it to just Gendry's solo?"

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"Fine. Give me an hour. What are you planning to do?"

"Either I'll be doing Gendry a favor, or just making him mad."

A little over an hour later, Arya had submitted the video, along with Gendry's cell phone number. She watched the clip several times over before she went to bed, amazed at his talent, wishing she were half as gifted.

She was almost asleep when her phone buzzed on the nightstand beside her. It was a text message from Gendry.

_You are soooo dead, Arya._

She'd smiled after reading it, then went to sleep.

Of course, Gendry was waiting for her at the school gate the next morning, with an amused looking Hot Pie and a sheepish Mycah behind him.

He looked furious, with his brows drawn together, and his blue eyes dark and stormy.

"Well?" Gendry demanded, using his six-two frame to tower over her.

"Well what?" Arya refused to let him intimidate her.

"What do you think you're playing at?" he asked, "What right did you have to submit that video?"

"So you got a call?"

"Late last night, yes – but don't go changing the subject. You haven't even known me a week, and you go and do this!" he snapped.

"Did Beric ask you to audition today?"

"Yes – why did you go behind my back?"

"Because I think you're an awesome guitarist and because I knew you wouldn't do it yourself." she pointed out.

"I would have done it myself, if I'd wanted to."

"No you wouldn't have. Stupid."

"You know, you shouldn't insult people that are bigger than you."

"Then I wouldn't get to insult anyone!"

"No good's going to come outta this." Gendry shook his head.

"No good? Are you crazy?" she couldn't believe what she was hearing, "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think you had any talent. You don't think you'll get it?"

"How can someone so small be such a huge pain in my ass?"

Hot Pie and Mycah laughed.

Gendry shook his head again, but the fight had left him.

"So, you're going to that audition?" Arya pushed.

He gave her an embarrassed sort of smile and nodded, "Hammer's in the back of my car."

"Hammer?"

"My _Les Paul_…electric guitar." he added the last part when Hot Pie looked at them blankly.

"Can I come with you?" Arya asked brightly.

"Yeah, can we?" Hot Pie piped in.

Gendry shrugged, "Guess it'll be okay."

"Alright!" Hot Pie whooped, "I'll bake you a pie to celebrate!"

"I'm not in the band yet." Gendry laughed.

"Why do they call you, The Bull?" Arya wondered.

"Oh…uh," Gendry scratched his head, "I'll have to show you. Here, hold this."

Gendry shrugged out of his long-sleeve shirt and handed it to Arya, before he pushed up the right sleeve of the t-shirt he wore underneath, revealing a bronzed and muscular forearm as well as an impressive bicep.

Arya's mouth opened slightly as she noticed how the fabric of his shirt pulled across his chest and shoulders, realizing how big he was for the first time.

"Whoa, cool!" Mycah exclaimed.

Arya saw the large bull's head tattoo on Gendry's bicep. It was done in silhouette, stylized and almost tribal. It looked fierce on his bronzed skin.

"That's awesome!" Before she knew what she was doing, she'd reached out and stroked Gendry's tattooed bicep with her fingers.

A second later she pulled her hand back, and tried to seem like she hadn't done anything untoward. She flicked her eyes to his face, he was watching her, but he didn't look like he'd minded.

"Did it hurt? When did you get it?" Hot Pie asked, breaking the silence, and Gendry turned to answer the question.

Arya gave him back his shirt and clenched her fingers together, and gave herself a mental shake. Drooling at a boy's muscles was something Sansa did, _not her. _

Yet, that's exactly what she'd been doing.

* * *

**Sansa**

"Sansa!" she looked up at the sound of her name, and found Joffrey making his way towards the table she shared with Jeyne. Sandor Clegane, Trant and Blount were behind him, all wearing their letterman jackets, "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"Hi, Joff," she smiled brightly at him, then turned to his friends and nodded at them, "Hi, guys."

She made a point of smiling at Sandor as well, but couldn't look at him for long.

Joff's friends each muttered a polite 'hi', except Sandor who just scowled.

"You're still coming to watch the warm-up game tomorrow night?" Joffrey asked.

"Yes, father's given me and Arya permission."

"What about your friend here?" Joff looked enquiringly at Jeyne.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've forgotten my manners…this is Jeyne Poole." Sansa introduced an astonished Jeyne to the guys.

"Are you coming to watch us play too, Jeyne?" Joffrey asked her again.

"Oh, yes of course."

"And you'll both be coming to my party afterwards?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Sansa replied.

"Excellent!" Joff looked pleased, "If you're not busy this afternoon, I'd love to see you down at the bleachers watching me train."

"Okay, I'll try and be there."

"We'll see you later then." Joff gave her another smile before he walked away, with the Hound and the others close behind him.

When they'd left, Sansa turned to Jeyne with a barely contained giggle, "Oh, my God!'

"See, didn't I tell you he'd ask you out?"

"But he hasn't, not really." Sansa thought.

"Trust me, by the weekend you'll have a date with Joffrey Baratheon!"

After classes that afternoon, Sansa met Jeyne again at the quad where they then began to make their way towards the football field. She'd never actually enjoyed football, and couldn't understand why her sister seemed obsessed by the game, but the thought of watching Joffrey suddenly made it exciting for her.

KL Prep was built around natural hillsides and slopes, and the sporting fields were found at the foot of a hill that had been leveled and laid with new turf. The rise of the slopes provided the perfect place for bleachers to be installed.

Sansa noted that the cheerleading squad was also on the field today, practicing their routine. Some of the girls were working individually, others in groups, while a small group just sat on the bleachers and talked amongst themselves. They looked cute in their short white pleated skirts and midriff tops that bore a white knight's helmet on the back, and the KLP insignia in yellow-gold thread.

She was almost envious. She wouldn't have minded being a cheerleader herself, were it not for the fact she didn't have an athletic bone in her body. Handsprings, splits and cartwheels were out of the question. She could barely run in a straight line without tripping, and gym class was akin to torture, in her opinion.

She and Jeyne found seats along the bleachers, some distance from the cheerleaders, but their voices carried and they weren't really being quiet, so they heard some of their conversation.

"Renly's on the team, too…I can't wait to see him in the flesh, he's so hot in his photos." said a girl with curly hair.

"I thought you were into Loras?"

"He's hot yes, but I heard a rumor that he might be into guys…"

Sansa exchanged glances with Jeyne.

"They're talking about Renly Baratheon, that's Joff's uncle." Jeyne chose to go with the first girl's comment.

"Yes, I met him the other night," Sansa said, "So he's on the college team, and he and Joff will have to play against each other?"

"Should be an interesting game," Jeyne agreed, "The Hound's big brother is on the team as well."

"The Hound has a brother?"

"Yep, he's even bigger than the Hound. They call Gregor Clegane, The Mountain. It's also no secret that they hate each other so that's another reason not to miss tomorrow's warm-up game!"

"It's all meant to be friendly, right?"

"Yeah, that's the idea. It's a tradition KL Prep and KL College have upheld for the past fifty years."

The boys had yet to start doing their drills and most were sitting on the bench below or on the grass, while others tossed the ball between them.

Sansa spotted the Hound first, just because he was so big, before she saw Joffrey beside him. The Hound had seen her too, and he gave Joff's arm a nudge.

"Sansa!" Joff yelled out across the field, and everyone within hearing turned to look at her.

Including the cheerleaders on the lower bleachers beneath them.

Sansa raised her arm and waved back at him, but didn't dare open her mouth.

"Everyone's staring." Jeyne whispered.

"I know," Sansa fought to keep her expression neutral, "Pretend we haven't noticed them."

It was hard to ignore the cheerleaders though, especially when one of them spoke to her.

"So, _you're_ Sansa Stark," said a short girl with brown curls and brown eyes, who eyed her up and down, "I'm Myranda, but you can call me Randa."

"Hi," Sansa offered her a smile, as sincere as she could make it, "I _am_ Sansa Stark, and this is my friend Jeyne Poole."

Randa smiled at Jeyne, before turning to a black haired girl beside her, "This is my girl, Mya. The busty red-head is Ros, and the little one is Alayaya, or Yaya for short."

Ros was a curvy girl with glossy dark red hair, and Yaya was petite with exotic dark looks. Sansa and Jeyne exchanged pleasantries with the girls for some minutes, finding out that Randa and Mya were seniors, while Ros and Yaya were juniors.

"The Spyder says you're Joffrey's new lady," Randa stated, surprising Sansa with her directness, "Is that true?"

"I don't know. He hasn't asked me out, yet." Sansa wondered why everyone just _assumed_ that what this Spyder had written had to be true.

"But, you're here watching him train," Mya pointed out, "That's got to mean something."

"He asked me to come and watch him," Sansa pointed out, then realized just what she'd said, "Oh."

The cheerleaders and Jeyne laughed at her expression.

"He's all but named you as his Princess. All you need now is the crown!" Randa had come to sit on the bleacher below her, "You're so pretty, Sansa. It's no wonder you caught his eye!"

"Joff's also _very_ good-looking! You guys will make the perfect couple." Ros wiggled her brows.

"He is, isn't he?" Sansa agreed, choosing only to acknowledge the first of Ros' observations.

All the girls turned to look to the field again, where Coach Selmy, a burly man with silver hair, started barking orders at the varsity team.

"You lot, skins! The rest of you in shirts!" Coach Selmy yelled, and suddenly the cheerleaders started squealing.

"Oh, wait…wait! Which team is he on?" Randa was asking.

"What's going on?" Sansa turned to Jeyne.

"Coach Selmy's making them play against each other, and one side has to play without shirts on."

"…Joff and the Hound are skins!"

"Oh, my God! Here it comes…"

Bemused, Sansa kept her eyes on the guys crowding around the bleachers and watched as they started taking off their shirts. She'd seen shirtless boys before, of course. But, her mouth went dry all the same.

It grew drier still, when she realized it wasn't Joffrey she was watching.

To be sure, she'd glanced at him, and he was predictably tall and broad shouldered and muscular. But nothing she hadn't seen before. She had brothers, and both Robb and Jon were taller and broader in comparison. Older as well, and she assumed Joffrey would be the same in a few years.

At that moment though, the one who gripped her attention stood an ugly head and ridiculously broad shoulders above the other boys on the team.

And that's exactly how Sandor Clegane made his teammates look. Like boys.

Sandor was six-foot-six of hard, rippling muscle and sinew encased in tanned skin. His shoulders were a hand-span broader than the rest. His pectoral muscles were developed and defined like that of a grown man, while further down he boasted a gloriously delineated set of abdominal muscles.

His torso was free of hair, and Sansa preferred it that way.

She was a sucker for a guy with perfect pecs and abs.

Sandor's arms looked lethal, with biceps and triceps that bunched and bulged as he moved, and forearms that were double the size of her own. _He has to work out to maintain that cut,_ she thought. Turning around, it appeared his back and upper shoulders were just as defined, while his waist narrowed into a V shape that ended at the waistband of his shorts. Her eyes kept travelling downwards, down his nicely shaped backside, powerful thighs and muscular calves.

The guy had no excess flesh on him whatsoever.

She needed water, her throat had gone parched from having her mouth open so long.

"Oh, Hound…you make my legs turn to jelly!" Ros gushed.

"He puts Ryan Gosling and Channing Tatum to shame with guns like those, and that torso…yum!" Yaya added.

Sansa's eyes widened at the two girls' comments. She hadn't considered other girls might have been observing him just as intently as she'd been.

"I know!" Mya agreed, "It's a pity he's so damn…"

"Scary?" Randa suggested, "Unnapproachable?"

"Dangerous." Ros supplied, licking her lips and smiling.

"You don't find his face, intimidating?" Sansa heard herself ask.

All the girls looked at her, and each one had a different answer. Jeyne replied that she found everything about Sandor Clegane scary. Mya and Randa both replied that they'd known him since grade school and that they'd never known him without his scars. Mya added that it was his reputation that made her wary, while Randa said it was his 'don't give a shit about anything' attitude that annoyed her. Yaya said she appreciated his body, but she didn't care at all for his face. Ros simply said that yes he intimidated her with the glares he gave to everyone, but it was the 'can't be tamed' air and bad boy appeal that made her want to jump his bones.

"Ros!" they other cheerleaders exclaimed when she made her proclamation about jumping his bones.

"Well, it's true," Ros turned to Sansa, "You'll be Joff's girlfriend soon, and he's always with the Hound, so put in a good word for me?"

Sansa must have said something appropriate, for the older girl smiled and thanked her before the cheerleading coach called them down for practice.

"Jeyne, why do they call him the Hound?"

"Because he follows Joffrey around all the time, like a guard dog or something."

"And what kind of rep does he have?"

"To be honest, I don't know how much of it is true…but outside the football field, people are inclined to believe he's a thug. He gets into fights all the time, he beats people up just for looking at him the wrong way, and he's always in a foul mood. The teachers just look the other way because he's an awesome football player. I think if he wasn't such an important team member, he'd have been expelled long ago."

"And he's Joffrey's friend?"

"I know it looks bad, but maybe Joff's nothing like him?" Jeyne said, sensing Sansa's unease.

"One last question, how did he get those scars?"

Jeyne shrugged, "Nobody seems to know the real story, but I've heard one story about his bedding catching fire when a heater in his room malfunctioned when he was young. Another story tells about him being in the car accident that killed his mom, and another story tells about a pot of boiling water being tipped on him."

"That's awful!"

She didn't want to think about the Hound anymore, and so for the rest of the afternoon, she made a determined effort to keep her eyes focused solely on Joffrey's golden head as he ran around the field, tempted though she was to look at the big, burned dog with the perfect pecs and abs.

* * *

**Arya**

The Hollow turned out to be a popular hangout, frequented by students from all the schools in the South. It was a burger joint. That was much clear. The rustic looking building was split into two rooms. One side was predominantly decked out like a restaurant, with groupings of wooden tables and chairs and a front counter with cash registers. Arya could see the bustling kitchen beyond the counter.

The other room was more of a lounge, with a few random tables and chairs scattered around the edges. There was a small podium set up at the back of the room, and spotlights hanging on the beams above it. The walls of the room were decorated with original artwork and flyers for upcoming shows, gallery openings and concerts. Currently, the podium was occupied by instruments, and two of the four current members of _Brotherhood_ _Without_ _Banners_.

"What is this place?" she asked no one in particular, looking around and trying to take it all in.

"It's the place King's Landing's artistic and creative types come to congregate and talk about how artistic and creative they are." Gendry replied in a mildly scathing tone.

"While they eat greasy burgers and fries, and listen to a live band." Hot Pie added.

Arya ignored Hot Pie's comment, intrigued by what she'd heard in Gendry's voice, "Why do you say it like that?"

He shrugged, "Because most of the people in here are pretenders."

She was going to ask him what he meant, but at that moment, a good-looking guy with red-gold hair approached them.

"Hi, you must be Gendry," he said, and shook hands with Gendry, "I'm Beric. Thanks for showing up."

"Yeah, well…thanks for calling me, considering my entry was so last minute." Gendry shot Arya a brief look.

"It was pure luck I was still online when your vid hit my email," Beric smiled, "You're up against three other guys today, so good luck!"

Gendry shrugged, then looked around at the tables that were filling up, "Are we going to have an audience?"

"Sure will," Beric grinned unapologetically, "The audience's reaction is as important as mine and the other guys."

"Right. So, no pressure then?" Gendry's tone was light and sarcastic.

"None at all," deadpanned Beric, "Your friends can make themselves comfortable, and if you'll come with me I'll show you where you can get ready."

"Good luck, Gendry!" Hot Pie and Mycah clapped him on the back as he made to follow Beric.

"Knock 'em dead." Arya punched his arm lightly and grinned at him.

Gendry disappeared with Beric into a backroom carrying 'Hammer' with him. Arya, Hot Pie and Mycah went to find somewhere to sit and watch, eventually settling to stand against a wall when all the seats proved taken. The room had filled up quickly, and Arya noted that the crowd was made up of artsy-musician-alternative types. She smiled to herself. There wasn't a single cheerleader, brainless jock or simpering-Sansa type in the place. Regardless of Gendry's comment about pretenders, she liked the place already.

"I had no idea it was going to turn into _American Idol_ in here." Mycah observed.

Arya agreed, and wondered exactly what she'd got Gendry into. It seemed over the top, just to find a guitarist for a high-school garage band.

"I bet there are other bands in here, scoping out the competition." Mycah continued.

"Is this Battle of the Bands really that big a deal?" Hot Pie asked.

"Yeah!" Mycah's eyes went big, "There's a meeting with a record label, and radio air time and cash involved if you win!"

Arya turned back to the podium where Beric and another blonde boy had joined the two already on-stage. If Mycah was right, then this _Brotherhood_ _Without_ _Banners_ were a serious band. She suddenly wished she'd remembered to Google them the night before, and wondered if Gendry had done his research. She didn't even know what style they played.

Beric approached the mic.

"Hi everyone!" Cheers went up in the crowd, "Thanks for coming, we're all excited about what's about to happen here today!"

More cheers went up.

"…For those of you new here today, I'm Beric Dondarrion. I sing a bit, and write some songs…" Laughter from the crowd, "Our drummer-boy here is Edric Dayne…we have Thoros Myr on the bass, and Tom Sevenstreams on the keyboard."

Again, more cheers.

"All right, so before we start, we thought we'd give you a song first! I'll be picking up my guitar this once, and I hope you'll be kind!"

Beric took the said guitar and strapped it around his neck. The drummer, Edric, counted them in and Beric began to sing as his fingers strummed his guitar. He had a magnificent voice, Arya decided, and they were _good_. Their sound reminded her of The Killers.

While Beric was decent on a guitar, it was apparent he was playing safe. The song they were playing seemed like it was built around four chords, repeated over and over, with only one key change. That was the extent of Arya's musical knowledge, and she wasn't going to pretend to be an expert, but Beric knew he wasn't a guitarist – hence their need to find a _real_ guitar player.

The song finished. There were more cheers, and Arya clapped along with the crowd.

"Thanks, guys!" Beric and the rest of his band mates downed their instruments and moved off-stage, "Okay, down to business!"

Beric explained the rules; two rounds and a third tie-breaker if needed. First round involved all four guys playing their guts out, one at a time. Two would be knocked out. Second round was the same, with one more knocked out, and hopefully a winner at the end. If they still couldn't decide, then they'd move to a tie-breaker, and Beric said he'd only reveal the rules of the tie-breaker if it came to that.

"One more rule," Beric said, again smiling, "You must play off-the-cuff. We mustn't hear anything readily identifiable…"

_Ooooooh_…..went the crowd.

"Oh, fuck…can Gendry do this?" Hot Pie worried.

"Of course he can. He _will_." Arya replied.

Gendry could, and he did. He had the unfortunate task of going first, however, but he _killed_ his first solo. Arya's mouth had dropped and hung open the entire time, watching his fingers sail over the frets and as his right hand picked at the strings with determined precision. The crowd went bananas, and the remaining three guys were even more unfortunate to have to be compared to him.

Gendry moved onto the second round, and Arya grew nervous for him anew.

The guy he opposed realized just what a threat Gendry was, and he played like his life depended on it.

Gendry didn't back down, or look remotely worried. In fact, he smiled the entire time he was up on that stage. With Hammer in his hands, he was in his element.

"…they're both awesome!" Was the comment Arya heard most repeated among the crowd.

That also seemed to be the sentiment shared by Beric and his band members.

"Okay everyone, I guess it's fair to say we're going into a tie-breaker!" Beric scratched his head, "I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you two are going to have to sing…as well as play your guitars."

_Ooooooh_…..went the crowd, again. This time, Arya did notice that Gendry's smile lost some of its confidence, but something steely shone in his blue eyes.

"…you can choose any song you like, this time it doesn't have to be off-the-cuff," Beric was saying, "Our new guitarist may also have to provide backing vocals, so a decent set of pipes don't hurt."

"Can he sing?" Arya asked, now worried. She didn't want Gendry to be embarrassed in front of all these strangers.

"How should we know?" Mycah replied, just as worried.

The first guy went onstage and sang a song by Nickelback. He had a good voice, and he was entertaining, but there was something lacking.

Arya found herself pushing through the crowd, trying to get close enough to speak to Gendry to tell him he didn't have to go through with it if he didn't want to. But, when she got there, she found he'd swapped his electric guitar for an acoustic he'd borrowed from Beric.

"Gendry!" she caught his attention, and he must have noticed the expression on her face because he walked over to her.

"How am I doing?" he smiled at her.

"You're awesome!" she cried, "But, can you sing? You know you don't have to keep going."

He tapped her lightly on the nose with the tip of his finger unexpectedly, and she blinked, "Don't worry, Arya. I've got this."

Beric called him up to the stage again, and Gendry gave Arya another grin before taking a seat on the stool on the stage.

"Hi everyone, my name's Gendry Waters, and I'll be singing _Unsaid_ by The Fray."

There was a round of clapping, then the room was silent. Gendry's fingers plucked the opening bars on the acoustic. It was a beautiful song…and then he opened his mouth and sang.

Arya's breath stuck in her throat, and goosepimples stole across her arms at the sound of his voice. It was more raw than The Fray's Isaac Slade, not as smooth, but there was something in his tones that still drew you in, and made you want to stay and listen.

_He can sing…Oh, my God he can SING!_

When he finished, Arya was the first one to start clapping and cheering.

"Gendry! Go, Gendry!"

He heard her, and flashed her another smile before he walked to the side of the stage.

Arya took a step back, intending to make her way back to Hot Pie and Mycah, but someone bumped into her and she lost her balance. As she fell, a strong pair of hands caught her by the waist and she landed into what was unmistakably someone's lap.

"A girl should be more careful, or she may hurt herself." A smooth and accented voice observed above her head.

Male laughter followed this comment. Her fall hadn't gone unnoticed.

A guy's lap, it turned out to be. Arya's nose caught a whiff of something spicy, like ginger and cloves. She turned her head and looked up. Hazel eyes, set in a face too handsome to be possible, peered down at her in amusement. She clutched at the hands that were still on her waist and made to get up while trying to pry his fingers loose, but the young man's grip tightened.

"Not so fast," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "A girl must give me her name, before I let her go."

She noted that he was older than her, and that he had unusual hair. It was long and straight, reddish but one side was streaked with shocks of platinum, and the other streaked blood red. Seated as they were, she couldn't tell exactly how tall he was, but the length of his arms and the fact her feet didn't touch the ground told her he had to be over six feet tall. He was muscular, too. And, still smiling at her.

"Let go," she said.

He laughed, "What? A girl won't say thank you for catching her?"

"Thank you," she said, "Now, let me go."

"All right," he sighed, "It's not every day a lovely girl falls into a guy's lap."

He loosened his grip on her waist, and Arya slid from his lap ungracefully before facing him when she was back on her feet.

"Thanks." she muttered again, actually glad he'd stopped her from falling and hurting herself, but embarrassed at the attention she was getting from the two other guys that sat with her rescuer.

"You're welcome," the smile was back on his face, "Jaqen H'ghar at your service…Arya Stark."

"You already know my name," she stated, "Why did you ask if you already knew?"

"To have you tell it to me," Jaqen shrugged broad shoulders, "Rather than listen to people whispering and speculating about your identity."

"Oh," she didn't have a response for that, "I'd better get back to my friends."

Jaqen H'ghar inclined his head as she started to move away.

"I'll be seeing you again…lovely girl." she heard him say.

A little bit shaken by the encounter, she squared her shoulders and found her way back to Hot Pie and Mycah. They didn't have to wait long for the verdict.

Gendry was now a member of _Brotherhood Without Banners._


	3. Episode 3 Of Dogs & Birds

**Thank you to all of you that have left reviews for my first two episodes - your input and encouragement mean so much to me and to the development of this story! P.S. this episode is focussed on Sansa/ Sandor (with a guest POV at the end), but I promise there is plenty of Arya/ Gendry/ Jaqen in the next one!**

* * *

**Episode 3**

"**Of Dogs & Birds"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Football season is almost upon us, with the first game scheduled for next week...But, _before_ that is the traditional exhibition game between King's Landing Prep and King's Landing College _this_ Friday afternoon. This year's exhibition game will be on home turf, with the College _Stags_ paying us a visit. Rumor has it that Joffrey Baratheon will be throwing a party after the game! I'll see you all there…but you won't see _me_!

Just an update on the 'Battle Of The Bands' – it looks like Beric Dondarrion's band, the Brotherhood Without Banners, will definitely be entering this year's competition! He's found a new guitarist with a killer voice in newly transferred junior, Gendry Waters…aka, 'The Bull'...thank you to my anonymous source who sent the video of his audition!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Sansa**

_This isn't a friendly game, _Sansa thought as she watched the Hound brutally take down the _Stags' _Quarterback yet again. The second quarter was almost over, and the _White Knights_ were leading. Sansa barely understood the basics of football, but she heard enough people talking around her to understand that Sandor Clegane was an exceptional Middle Linebacker.

"He's not a hound…he's a freaking bulldozer!" Someone said behind her.

"That brother of his is a menace though." Someone else said.

Sansa agreed. She'd taken one look at Gregor Clegane and instinctively knew that he was infinitely more frightening than his younger brother, and not just because of his grotesque size. If she'd thought the Hound big, his brother was even larger.

The King's College coach had had to remind Gregor Clegane several times that the game was an exhibition match, and to keep himself in check. He was an Offensive Lineman, and was getting angrier with each sack Sandor managed against Loras Tyrell, their unfortunate Quarterback. Gregor was supposed to be protecting Loras, but Sandor made it look like Gregor wasn't doing his job properly.

"Tyrell, get your fucking ass _moving_!" he'd yelled at Loras.

Sansa wondered how anyone could look at Gregor Clegane and not want to run in the opposite direction. She did not envy any of the _White Knights_' Defensive Linemen.

Both teams re-positioned on the field, waiting for the snap. Loras called out the play, and somehow he managed to pass the ball before the Hound took him down. The _Stags_ went on to finally score a touchdown just as the whistle blew, signaling the end of the quarter.

The players on both teams went to their respective benches at the sidelines. Sansa spotted Renly Baratheon next to Loras Tyrell. Renly was a Tackle. He'd spoken to her earlier before the game had started, and was pleased to find out she'd be going to the party afterwards at The Red Keep.

"Do you find it strange playing against Joffrey? He is your nephew, after all." she'd asked him.

He'd laughed, "There's only four years separating us, and I'm not that much bigger than he is. I feel no guilt whatsoever in tackling the little shit!"

Half-time was fifteen minutes, and currently the KL Prep cheerleaders were on the field, demonstrating their newest routine to the substantial crowd that had turned up to watch the exhibition game.

Sansa was seated next to Jeyne, and some distance below her, she could see Arya with the junior called Gendry, and two other boys she couldn't recall. She stared at Gendry for a moment, wondering why he suddenly reminded her of someone, but gave up when she couldn't place who she'd been reminded of.

"I can't believe I'm going to a party at Joffrey Baratheon's!" Jeyne said excitedly, "I've never been invited before."

"I've never been to any party, anywhere," Sansa muttered, "Not a party with just teenagers, anyway."

"I can't believe that,"

"It's true," Sansa said, sadly, "Mordane's wasn't famous for hosting dances, and if my brothers had parties, I wasn't allowed to be there."

"Well, you'll soon be making up for that!"

"I wonder if Joffrey will ask me out, at all?" Sansa sighed, "I haven't really spoken to him this week, but everyone seems to think something will happen between us."

Jeyne laughed, "You _know_ he's going to ask you out. Haven't you ever been on a date before?"

"I've never been to a party, a date seems highly unlikely."

"So you've never been kissed before, either?" Jeyne asked her.

Sansa squirmed and flushed as a memory she would rather forget surfaced to her mind. Not that she had found her first kiss unpleasant, in fact she imagined she might have liked it, if she could only ignore _who_ had been kissing her.

"You have!" Jeyne exclaimed, "Spill!"

Still flushing, Sansa told her about the graduation party her brothers Robb, Jon and foster-brother Theon Greyjoy had held at the beginning of summer to mark the end of their high-school years.

"Theon?" Jeyne wanted details.

Sansa relented, "Theon's father owns a big shipping company, but he doesn't have a good relationship with him. His mother doesn't want him either, so my father offered to take him in. He's been with my family for the past eight years, and now he's going to college with my brothers."

"Is he cute?"

"I've never really thought about it...I guess he is." Sansa pictured Theon's lean, darkly handsome looks.

"So, what happened?" Jeyne prompted when Sansa had been silent over-long.

"Well, father had let them use the pool house, and there were kids everywhere but mother had banned me from going anywhere near the party, and Robb hadn't even tried to convince her..."

Sansa remembered being so mad at the time, and she'd sulkily sat on the top of the stairs overlooking the rear garden and the pool house beyond, listening to the loud music that drifted up toward the main house.

"Sansa? What are you doing out here?" Theon had materialised out of the night, and he sat down beside her on the step.

"Not being at the party." she'd replied, sounding so very disappointed.

"That's right, I'd heard you'd been forbidden." he'd taken a drink from the glass he held in his hand.

"Why aren't you over there?"

He tugged at his shirt, "Someone dropped dip on me earlier and I had to change my shirt."

"What are you drinking?"

"Bourbon and cola."

"Can I try some?" she'd asked, thinking that if anyone would let her, it would be him.

"Sure," he didn't disappoint her, and handed her the glass.

He'd watched her as she'd taken a sip and as she made a face when the alcohol hit her throat.

"Not to your liking?" he'd laughed as she coughed into her hand.

"It's bitter, and sweet but not...nice." she'd admitted.

"Come with me," he stood up and held out his other hand, "Let me get you something that's more to your taste."

She'd stared at his hand, "I can't, Robb will see me."

Theon had laughed, "No he won't, he's too pre-occupied."

"But..."

"Just come down to the garden, you don't have to come into the pool house."

Sansa had taken his hand and let him lead her down to a bench under tree. It was dark, and though Sansa could see out from the shadows, people wouldn't have been able to see her unless they knew she was there.

"Don't move, I'll be back." Theon said.

When he returned, he was holding a bottle with a colorful label on the front.

"Here, try this," he said after he'd removed the bottle-top for her, "It's a vodka mix, you'll like it."

She'd taken a tentative sip, "It's like lemonade!"  
They'd talked about his plans for the rest of the summer, and how he was looking forward to college and sharing an apartment close to campus with Robb and Jon.

"I wish you guys weren't moving out." Sansa'd said, the bottle of vodka-lemonade almost finished.

"Will you miss us?"

"Of course I will."

"Even me?" Theon had sounded dubious.

"Yeah. You, too." she'd giggled, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Theon was quiet for a bit, and stared at her, "How old are you again?"

"I'm fourteen, Theon, going on fifteen in October."

"Right...and you'll be a sophomore in September."

"Sure will be!" she'd swallowed the last of the vodka-lemonade, and Theon took the empty bottle from her.

"Are you dating now, Sansa?"

She'd laughed, "Every weekend, and with a different boy each week!"

"Kissed a boy before?"

"Theon!"

"Of course you have...pretty girl like you."

"You think I'm pretty?" Sansa's head felt funny from the vodka, but she beamed at his words.

"_Very_ pretty, Sansa," he'd reached out and pulled her to him, "I think you're a very beautiful girl."

Then he'd dropped his head and kissed her. Shocked, Sansa sat unmoving in Theon's embrace as he'd pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tasted the sweetness of the bourbon and cola he'd been drinking, and registered that his lips were warm and that his cheeks were stubbled. The sensation of the kiss itself had been nice, but kissing _Theon_ felt a hundred different kinds of _wrong_ and she'd pushed him away forcefully.

"No, Theon," she'd pulled out of his arms, "You shouldn't be kissing me."

_He's like a brother!_

"Yeah, you're right," he'd grinned ruefully, but didn't try to do it again, "Robb would probably kill me, so don't tell him, okay?"

"I won't," she'd shaken her head, "I promise."

"Good. Now, you'd better go back to the house before I change my mind. It's a pity though...You've such a sweet mouth."

Sansa now looked at Jeyne who was sitting with her mouth agape.

"Sansa!"

"What?"

"I'm jealous…that sounds so hot!"

"It wasn't!" Sansa grimaced.

Jeyne laughed again, "Well, after you kiss Joffrey, you can make that comparison and tell me all about it."

The third quarter of the game went much like the first two, with both teams eventually moving into the final quarter with 16-16 on the board. It was a difficult final quarter for both sides, with neither team managing to score anything, and Sansa could sense that something was up when Gregor Clegane's cursing became fouler. She couldn't hear everything he said, but she was sure there was a death threat in there somewhere.

He began yelling at Loras Tyrell again when _Stags_ took possession of the ball. Their center had just snapped the ball to Loras, and he started running, trying to set up a pass. Gregor Clegane was pulverizing members of the _White Knights' _defense, but somehow, _somehow, _the Hound got through their lines and smashed into Loras.

It was then that hell broke loose.

Sandor had gotten back to his feet and was moving back to his side, when Gregor came running up and threw a punch…at Loras Tyrell.

The crowd erupted in shouts, and Sansa found herself on her feet with her hand over her mouth. Loras was on the ground again, and Gregor was about to come in for another attack when Sandor suddenly appeared between them, putting himself in front of Loras, and deflected his brother's blow.

"_Back_ _off!"_ Sandor shouted.

"_Get the fuck out of my face!_" Gregor yelled back furiously, face red with anger.

Then the brothers were fighting each other, shoving, grabbing jerseys, striking. It was ugly and brutal and Sansa couldn't look away, unable to help the sudden fear she felt for Sandor.

"STOP THIS MADNESS AT ONCE!" The shout came from Coach Selmy who stormed onto the field alongside the college team's coach.

Sandor pulled back immediately, with Gregor's fist missing his face by an inch.

Sandor took off his helmet as both coaches started yelling and reprimanding the brothers. Sansa could see the tension in Sandor's body. Gregor had to be held back by three brave teammates. Both brothers were benched the remainder of the game. She learned later that Gregor received a suspension for the next two games for attacking a member of his own team, and Sandor got off with just a warning.

The _White Knights_ won, but Sansa no longer cared.

Arya came up to her and told her that she was going somewhere with her friends before disappearing towards the student car park.

Joffrey found her on his way to the showers with the rest of his teammates.

"Good game, Joff." she said to him, throwing the Hound a nervous glance.

"Maybe, but it doesn't count." he shrugged.

"Joff, get a move on!" Renly shouted at him from some feet away, also on his way to change out of his jersey.

"Wait for us here," Joffrey instructed her, "Renly and I will take you and your friend with us to my house."

They came back soon enough, but Sandor headed straight past them with some of the other guys on the team. Sansa noted that he'd composed himself again, but the corner of his burned mouth twitched. His hair was damp, and still pushed over the burned side of his face. He'd also changed into jeans and a red t-shirt with the name of a rock band on it.

"We'll meet you there." he'd said to Joff, and walked towards the carpark.

"This way, ladies." Renly offered his arm to Jeyne, who giggled as she accepted it.

"Come on, Sansa." Joff didn't bother with offering his arm. He simply grabbed Sansa's hand as though he had every right to it.

She blushed.

Joffrey's parents had allowed him to have the party in one of the guest houses on the property, away from the main house where their music and noise wouldn't disturb the rest of the family. Alcohol flowed freely, though just about everyone was underage.

Some members of the King's Landing _Stags_ had come as well, including Loras Tyrell whose jaw was starting to go purple.

"Sandor, the fucking Hound, Clegane saved my life!" he said to anyone who'd listen.

Gregor Clegane was thankfully, absent.

So many kids from school had turned up that the party spilled out into the garden. Sansa noted that it was very different from the first party she'd attended at The Red Keep just a week before. There were speakers set up under the gazebo, and kids were dancing to the pop music being pumped out.

Randa, Mya and the other cheerleaders were already there dancing up a storm. They'd changed from their cheerleading uniforms, into a different uniform of miniskirts, low cut tops, skin-tight jeans and high heels.

Sansa knew she dressed well. She had money, and she loved fashion. Currently, she was wearing a pair of Siwy skinny-jeans and a lilac colored blouse that had a sweetheart neckline, and clung to her curves, but she wondered if she wore her clothes with the same confidence the other girls did. These girls were hot, they knew it, and so did the boys watching them.

Chairs, stools and benches had been scattered around near the gazebo-dancefloor, and they found Sandor already there with Trant and Blount. People made room, and Joffrey took a seat, pulling Sansa down and sitting her on his lap.

"There, you can sit on my lap," he grinned at her, looking pleased with himself, "Let your friend take the chair."

Jeyne shot her a look as she took the said chair. Sansa was aware of every single pair of eyes that had witnessed what had just happened and continued to look on. She was surprised at his action, pleased and yet dismayed at the same time. She could have done without their audience, but Joffrey didn't seem to mind it.

"What are you doing tomorrow, Sansa?" he asked loudly, running his palm over the curve of her hip.

"Oh, nothing…I hadn't made plans." Sansa's cheeks heated up, noticing the way Trant and Blount were smirking and that everyone was listening.

"Come out with me," he said, "There's a new movie that I want to see."

She couldn't be certain he was asking her, it had sounded like a command, but she didn't dwell on why her brain had wanted to make that distinction.

"Okay, I'd like that." she smiled a pretty smile at him.

"Good." he ran a finger down her arm, "I'll pick you up tomorrow evening, and I'd like it if you wore something pretty."

Again, that sounded like he was telling her what to do, but she didn't think about it, focusing instead on the fact she was going on her first date!

He then ignored her for a good few minutes while he and his friends talked about the game they'd just played and won. From her seat on Joffrey's lap, Sansa turned her head to look at Jeyne, and they talked quietly before they were distracted by the sound of their names being called.

"Sansa! Jeyne! Come dance with us!" It was Randa and Mya calling out to them, Ros and Yaya were not far behind, moving in time to the music.

Joffrey had stopped talking at the interruption, and now he looked at Sansa for a second, before all but pushing her towards the dance floor.

"Go on, let's see you dance!"

* * *

**Sandor**

"Go on, let's see you dance!" Joffrey called out after Sansa as she and Jeyne skipped over towards the gazebo to join the cheerleaders, "Let's see you shake that ass!"

Sandor and the guys around Joffrey were the only ones to hear that last bit, and sure enough there were rude snickers all around. Sandor didn't even crack a smile. In fact his expression hadn't changed from the scowl he'd been wearing the whole evening.

His run-in with Gregor had put him in a black mood.

His shoulder ached from where Gregor's anvil-like fist had struck him. Not to mention the pummeling he himself had dished out. His knuckles hurt. He wasn't as big as his grotesque brother, but he could hold his own now…he wasn't a helpless little boy anymore. If Coach Selmy hadn't put a stop to their fight, he knew he could've done serious damage on his brother.

_But how much worse would he have done to you?_

He bared his teeth at the thought, feeling his mood getting blacker. He needed a drink, but he was driving, so he couldn't.

_Fuck._ His mood slipped further.

He had to get a grip, or he'd soon need to find some unlucky victim to take his anger out on.

There was laughter from a group nearby, and he spotted some of the college jocks flirting with some senior girls. Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell were there, and that did make him snort.

Loras Tyrell was gay, and Sandor was certain that Renly Baratheon was, too. Not that either guy had come out or anything.

Sandor was at The Red Keep more than most as Joffrey seemed to prefer his company. There were always people visiting, and Loras Tyrell had been a recent guest whenever Renly came to see his family. Sandor had always been observant, and whether he wanted to or not, he saw and heard things that were enough to convince him that the two _Stags _wanted only to rut with each other.

Which now made them liars, he noted.

Both were flirting with girls, and none of the girls knew any better. One of them was sitting on Renly's lap, and another was stroking Loras' bruised face.

Sandor hated liars.

He needed a distraction.

He looked towards the dance floor, hoping to catch sight of a decent set of tits that would do the trick. There was a girl, a cheerleader. He couldn't recall her name – a busty, curvaceous one with dark red hair staring at him. She was shimmying and gyrating next to a petite cheerleader, and when she realized he was looking, she did some move with her hips and ass that had the guys near him whistling.

"Ros! Do that again!" One of the guys called out.

She obliged, but Sandor wasn't looking at her anymore.

He was looking at another red-haired girl, with a slightly smaller but perkier rack, a pert little ass and long legs that were encased in denim so tight it looked like it had been sprayed on. Some R&B song with a lot of bass was playing, and she was moving her hips in time to the beat. Her movements were more restrained, like she was unsure or self-conscious even though she was an awesome dancer.

She looked amazing, swaying her hips and lifting her arms above her head causing the blouse she wore to ride up and expose the creamy skin of her midriff.

_Too fucking bad she's not dancing for you, you ugly mutt!_

"I don't think I can wait till tomorrow to get my hands on _that_!" Joff's voice broke into his ever darkening thoughts.

Sandor watched in silence as Joff made his way to the dance floor, and as the blonde jerk came up and pulled Sansa into his arms. She laughed, but her laugh became a gasp when Joff's hand slipped to grab one pert butt-cheek.

People laughed, but Sandor didn't. He found himself clenching his fists so tight his fingernails bit into his palm.

"Joff, please…!" he heard Sansa say.

"It's okay, babe," Joffrey's arm tightened around her waist, drawing her in closer, "You're with me, now."

Joffrey bent to kiss her, and for a second Sandor imagined that Sansa's hands had gone to Joff's chest to push him away.

Except she didn't.

Sansa Stark stood there and let Joffrey Baratheon kiss her in full public view of everyone who was anyone at King's Landing Prep.

Sandor stood up and walked away, unable to watch, unable to explain why the sight of Joff kissing Sansa, a stupid little girl he hardly knew, bothered him so much.

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa glanced at her watch and sighed. The party was over for her. She'd been trying to stifle her yawns for the past hour, and her feet hurt from too much dancing. Jeyne had gone home an hour before, having caught a ride with Randa.

"Joff, it's getting late and I should be getting home."

"I suppose you're right…but I'm too fuckin' drunk to take you anywhere," he snorted, "Hound!" he called out to the big guy when he spotted him walking past them.

Sandor paused and looked at him, "Yeah?"

"Are you leaving now?" Joff asked, "If you are, take her with you. She's on your way."

Sansa's stomach plummeted. She didn't want to go anywhere with Sandor Clegane. She'd hoped Joffrey would drive her home. Sandor's face was impassive, but he gave a terse nod.

"There's a good dog." Joff smiled, then he grabbed Sansa and dropped a wet kiss on her mouth while he palmed her ass.

Sansa made a little noise of protest at being felt up in public yet again. She was beet-red when he let her go and found the Hound staring.

"Go with him now, Sansa," Joff said, "I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure she gets home safely, Hound."

Without another word, he walked away.

Sansa peeked at the Hound.

"Did you think Joff was going to take you himself?" he snorted.

She didn't reply.

"Come on," he took her arm and started to pull her unresisting away from the party, "You're not the only one who needs sleep."

His hand was warm and dry on her skin, and his long fingers wrapped completely around her wrist which suddenly looked ridiculously fragile in his grasp.

He led her through the darkened gardens, careful to avoid accidentally running into couples making out in the unlit places under trees and alcoves. Once they were on the lawn, he let her go. It was a long walk from the gardens to where the cars had been parked, and Sansa kept her head down, still unable to look at him directly.

_Where are your manners? Don't focus on his scars._ She made herself speak to him.

"You…you played well this afternoon," she offered, "You're a talented athlete."

"Spare me. I'm no fucking athlete," he scoffed, "Do you ever actually say anything meaningful?"

"I don't know what you mean." she said quietly, not understanding his mood, but sensing his anger nonetheless.

"You're like a little bird that's constantly chirping nonsense," he elaborated, scathingly, "I've seen you…heard you talk useless gossip all week, hiding what you're really thinking behind politeness."

Sansa was taken aback, insulted. 'I'm…I'm not–"

"Yes, you are!" he snapped, "You didn't like what I just said about you, but you're too polite to tell me to fuck off."

"I'd never..!" she was aghast

"No, you wouldn't. That's my point. You're too damned polite to tell the truth," he said, "Is that what they taught you at that girls' school?"

"That's unkind."

"Did you see my brother today? He's an athlete…what did you think of him?"

She winced, remembering what had happened on the football field, "Yes…he was…"

"Talented?" he laughed mirthlessly.

"No one had a chance against him." Sansa finally said.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks, and she had no choice but to stop beside him. They were near one of the lampposts that lined the long driveway, and in the light it cast Sansa could see that Sandor was clenching his fists.

"So fucking polite." he rasped.

She was already wary of him, but now she was growing frightened.

"No one had a chance against him," he rasped, "You're right there…no one ever did stand a chance with Gregor. Tyrell hadn't stood a chance either. He's going to have a pretty bruise on that face of his you girls like so much. Want to see how fucking _talented_ my brother is? Look at me. Look at me!" he took hold of her shoulders and spun her around to face him, then he put a huge hand under her chin and forced her face up, "Not _polite_ to stare? Well, fuck that. Here's your chance. Take a long look. You know you want to."

His fingers bit into her cheeks where they held her. She had to look.

_Grey eyes,_ _he has grey eyes._ She noted too that they were turbulent, and sullen with anger. Watching her.

She'd known what to expect, of course, from the photo of him she'd seen on the website, but having his face only inches away from hers was entirely intimidating. Yet, she made herself study him again, seeking to satisfy her curiosity.

The left side of his face was a scarred ruin, and she saw that most of his left ear was missing too. She hadn't seen that in the photo. His straight black hair was thicker and covered more of his head than she'd first thought, hanging to the top of his shoulders.

The unburned side drew her in. She couldn't help it. This side wasn't ugly at all. Far from it, in fact. She couldn't find anything to say about the conflicting emotions going on inside her.

She was both repelled, and attracted.  
She drew a shaky breath, which he mistakenly took as a sound of fright. He let her go.

"Nothing polite to say?" he wasn't expecting an answer, and he continued, "People think it was an electrical fire or that I'd been in a car accident. Other people think I was scalded by hot water," he gave another laugh, softer this time but just as bitter, "I'll tell you what it really was," he was leaning so close now that she could smell a faint hint of cologne, and sweat and something male, "I was six, and it was Christmas. One of my dad's acquaintances had sent gifts for us. Handmade toys from some famous European toy-maker. I don't remember what I got, but I wanted Gregor's gift instead so I took it. It was a wooden knight in armour, with arms and legs you could move to make him fight. Gregor was eleven and already six-feet tall, too old for that kind of stuff, but that made no difference. It was his, and I shouldn't have been touching it. When he found me, he didn't say a word, he just picked me up and shoved the side of my face into the coals that were still burning in the fireplace.

Dad told everyone at the hospital that it was a faulty heater and that my bedding had caught fire. He hushed up what really happened. Didn't want his boss, Tywin Lannister, finding out. Doctors fixed me up, and told dad I could have plastic surgery to make me look normal, but the bastard's too fucking tight to fork out the money. I was alive. It didn't matter if I looked like a freak.

Gregor got away with it. He got bigger, and turns out he's a fucking natural _athlete_. He won athletic scholarships. Football coaches like that he's a brutal fucker, but no one knows…"

His rasping voice trailed off and there was nothing but silence for a while, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing.

She was sad for him, she realized, and somehow she stopped being afraid of him.

She didn't know why he'd told her these things. She didn't even know him, but she understood that it was something important. The encounter with his brother had triggered something latent and dangerous inside him. She was afraid _for_ him.

She reached up and found his massive shoulder with her hand. His muscles bunched under her touch.

"He…he's not a good person." she whispered to him.

He threw back his head and roared, and Sansa stumbled away from him, but he caught her arm.

"No," he growled at her, "No, little bird, he's not a good person at all."

In silence, he led her to his car.

He drove a black Mustang. She didn't know what model it was. Just that it was an older model, restored and looked almost as dangerous as its owner. It was fitting, she mused, strapping herself into the passenger seat as Sandor slipped behind the wheel beside her.

In silence, he drove to Chateau Maegor, and she didn't dare do anything to break into his thoughts. Still in silence, he pulled into her driveway and slowed down as they reached the front door.

Sansa made to let herself out.

"Thank you," she said meekly.

Sandor grasped her arm before she could open the door, and he leaned close, "The things I told you tonight," he said, his voice rougher than it had been earlier, "If you ever tell Joffrey…your sister…anyone…"

"I won't," Sansa whispered, "I promise."

He shook his head, it wasn't enough, "If you ever tell anyone, I'll make sure you regret it."

* * *

**Eddard**

Ned Stark heard the rumble of an engine, and he glanced at the clock on the wall before he got up and went to the window. There was an unfamiliar white BMW on his driveway, and his youngest daughter was stepping out of the passenger side. He watched Arya lean into the window to say something to the driver…he recalled a conversation from earlier in the week and mention of a boy whose name now escaped him.

It was half-past ten, and his not-quite-fourteen year old daughter was just coming home.

_Hmm_. Ned grabbed his phone and sent a text message to his head of security, Jory Cassel.

"Jory. I need details on this license plate number."

Cat had told him that both girls were out for the evening, but she'd failed to mention anything about a curfew. He left the day to day disciplining to her, and only stepped in when she needed him to, or when he felt compelled to do so.

He damn well felt compelled to do so at that moment.

It was another hour before he heard a second vehicle coming up the driveway. He was already waiting at the window when the black Mustang came to a stop below.

_Joffrey Baratheon does not drive a Mustang.  
_As he watched his not-quite-fifteen year old hop out of the vehicle, he texted Jory once again.

"This one, too." he wrote.

For the most part, he kept his nose out of his daughters' business, relying on Cat to tell him about the things the girls didn't want to, or felt they couldn't tell him. Not that he didn't encourage them to open up to him, but he accepted that there were just some things girls would _never_ discuss with their father, and even more things a father did not _want_ to discuss with his daughters.

It was easier to understand them when they'd been younger, but as they got older, Ned realized fairly quickly that he was out of his depth.

Arya and Sansa were so completely different, appearance wise and in personalities, that even he found it hard to fathom sometimes that he'd sired them both. He worried about them differently, as well. Knowing his daughters were now safely back in their bedrooms, he abandoned his study and went to bed.

Catelyn was in bed reading a book, and she glanced up when he slid into the bed beside her.

"Girls are in." he stated.

"You really were waiting for them, weren't you?"

"I'm their father. I'm supposed to," he replied, "Don't you want to know how they got home?"

"I was going to wait and let them tell me themselves, but you may as well tell me now that you've got my interest piqued." Catelyn put her book down.

Ned settled into his pillow and sighed, "Arya came in a white BMW, and Sansa was delivered in a black Mustang."

"Really?" Cat frowned, "Sure you didn't get them mixed up?"

"What?"

"You know your daughters, Ned. I'm probably falling into a stereotypical trap here, but I always pictured Arya would be the one with a Mustang driving bad-boy, while Sansa would have the typical handsome knight in shining BMW."

"Well, we're in for a couple of interesting tales in the morning," Ned hoped Jory would come through with the information he requested by then, "Cat, what curfews did you give the girls?"

"Home by seven p.m on weekdays, unless otherwise agreed, and midnight on weekends. Sleepovers are conditional to us meeting their friend's parents first."

_And to your conducting a background check._ Ned didn't need to have Cat say it out aloud.

"Those are generous curfews," he said instead.

"Yes, I thought so too," Cat agreed, "Sansa had a similar one back when we were still in the North, though there was no reason for her to ever need break it…but things are different here."

"You're expecting them to break it." Ned stated.

"Undoubtedly," Cat replied, "They're good girls, but they won't stay young and innocent indefinitely."

"They'll be fourteen and fifteen, come October," Ned rolled over and fixed his wife with a look, "Sooner or later they'll start dating, if they haven't already…and teenage boys are…untrustworthy."

Those were not the words he really wanted to use, but he could hardly say _teenage boys are only after sex_ to her. "I just want to make certain they know how to take care of themselves. You _know_ what I mean, Catelyn."

"I know," she rubbed her temple, "I'm still in two minds about it. I don't want them to see it as a green light, but I also don't want to fool myself into thinking they'll never…get curious."

"You're not going to put it off, are you?" Ned found it amusing to watch his wife squirm.

It wasn't a funny situation, and he certainly wasn't taking it lightly. However, he couldn't help recalling that a few years earlier when they'd decided it was time Ned brought up the safe-sex issue with Robb, Jon and Theon, Catelyn at the time, hadn't been all that sympathetic to his own discomfort and embarrassment. In fact, she'd teased him about it.

He didn't think it was a good idea to remind her of that right at that moment though.

"No," she sighed, "I've made separate appointments for them to see a doctor. Sansa won't be a problem. Arya will have to be dragged kicking and screaming though."

Ned smiled, "Yes, I expect she will."

In the morning, Ned found an email waiting for him from Jory Cassel.

"Info on those two license plates, as requested." Said the message.

Ned hesitated when his cursor hovered over the little attachment icon on the screen. He disliked having to go behind his daughters' backs, but he had to remind himself that he was Eddard Stark, and he was worth a ridiculous amount of money. His children would also be worth a lot of money, if anyone ever wanted to use them to get to him. He meant to keep them safe, although keeping them safe while letting them have their freedom was no easy feat to manage. He would do what he felt he needed to do.

Ned clicked on the attachment, and it took him two minutes to read the contents.

The black Mustang was registered to Sandor Clegane, who lived in the next suburb of Little Keep. Father, Theodor Clegane, employed by Tywin Lannister…friend of Joffrey Baratheon, Jory had noted.

Ned exhaled. Sansa had been dropped off by Joffrey's friend who lived nearby. He didn't see anything that was of immediate concern.

The white BMW belonged to a seventeen year old boy by the name of Gendry Waters, who currently resided with a foster family in The Forge Estates, an upper-middle-class suburb not too far away. Formerly the Mott family had resided in the suburb of River's Edge, also referred to as Flea Bottom.

Ned frowned. Something didn't add up. How did a family from one of the poorest suburbs suddenly find the means to relocate to one of the more affluent addresses in King's Landing? How did a foster kid afford a BMW sports car?

"Jory, need more info on the Waters boy." he wrote, and sent the email.

Sighing, Ned switched off his computer and went downstairs to join his family for breakfast. With a little coaxing, his children were soon talking.

Bran, twelve years old and gifted, talked about an advanced math class. Rickon, seven, talked about a soccer match.

Sansa confirmed the ride home with the Clegane boy, and she had a date with Joffrey Baratheon that night. _Great._ Ned schooled his features, even as he shot Catelyn a look.

Arya talked about the football game from the previous day, and seeing an action film with a freshman classmate later that afternoon. The only other thing Ned learned about Gendry Waters was that he played a mean electric guitar and that he was in a rock band.

He shot Catelyn another meaningful look.


	4. Episode 4 The She Wolf Emerges

**Hi everyone, I meant to update sooner, but my day job got in the way. Thanks again for those who reviewed and I hope you like this next episode!**

* * *

**Episode 4**

"**The She-Wolf Emerges"**

**Gossip Spyder**

It's official! If you weren't there to see it for yourself, fellow peeps, I can guarantee that Joffrey Baratheon is dating Sansa Stark. They were spotted kissing at Joffrey's party last Friday night after the warm-up game. They were seen again at Dragon's Gate Mall coming out of the movie theatre on Saturday night on what appeared to be their first date together…awww…

It's a pity about what happened later that evening…check out the pic one of you observant peeps sent in! Joffrey, what the hell did you say to Arya Stark? Ha ha ha!...I believe she had you in a 'rear-naked-choke'! Poor Sansa looked terribly upset…

On a more serious note, a freshman boy was seen leaving the boy's locker room bloodied and bruised yesterday afternoon. No one's really sure who he is, but everyone seems to believe his injuries came courtesy of The Hound…he's one scary guy…freshman dude, consider yourself lucky to still be walking!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Arya**

Arya had never felt so furious, and so helpless at the same time.

Mycah was gone.

His father had taken him out of school, and other than a cryptic message he'd sent in reply to her desperate calls, no one had seen or heard from him since Monday afternoon.

"It's better this way." Mycah had written, and she hadn't a clue what he meant.

She wanted to murder Joffrey, for she had no doubt that it was Joffrey who'd told the Hound to beat up Mycah. Poor Mycah. He hadn't done anything to Joffrey. All he'd done was stick up for her. It was Arya who had hit Joffrey, but because he couldn't retaliate against her directly, he'd gone after the next best target. Arya's friend.

The Hound. She wanted him _maimed _for life. Actually, dead would be preferable, but she'd settle for having the parts of him that made him a man cut off with a pair of blunt, rusty scissors. Did the brainless oaf do everything Joff told him to do?

And Sansa…she'd never felt so much anger, so much antipathy and so much bitter, bitter disappointment in her sister in her whole life.

There were many times that she'd told Sansa how ashamed she was at having her for a sister, but she'd never really meant it, until last Saturday night.

Arya had heard that Sansa had a date with Joffrey, but she didn't much care for the details and so hadn't bothered to ask. It never occurred to her that she and Mycah would run into them that night.

It had just been Arya and Mycah seeing as Gendry had band practice, and Hot Pie had a family thing to go to.

After the movie, Mycah had told her about a popular dessert cafe he'd wanted to go to, but that they might have to wait to get a table because of how popular it was. Sure enough, when they'd got there the queue had spilled out of the café and around the block, but Mycah convinced her that it was worth the wait. So they waited for an hour just to get to the head of the queue.

That was when Arya had spotted Joffrey and Sansa walking towards the café.

"Ugh," Arya had said when she saw Joffrey kiss her sister, "What the hell does she see in him?"

"It's actually pretty funny," Mycah had said, "They're like a male and female version of that 90's Jim Carey movie…_Dumb & Dumber._"

Arya had laughed, and was still laughing when Joff and Sansa reached the front of the café and saw them.

"What do we have here?" Joff smirked, staring down at ginger-haired Mycah, "Are you two lovebirds on your first date, too?"

"Shut up, Joffrey," Arya's laughter died on her lips at the tone of Joffrey's voice, "Just leave us the fuck alone."

"What did you say?" Joffrey suddenly took a step forward, and Sansa gave his arm a hesitant tug.

"Come on, Joff. They're not worth it." Sansa said, trying to get him to keep moving.

"No! I want her to repeat what she just said." he said, eyes glinting with his rising temper.

"I said," Arya replied, her voice cold, "Leave us. The fuck. Alone."

Joffrey had sneered, "You sure talk tough for such a little girl."

"I'm not a little girl!" she hissed.

"You are what I say you are," he hissed back, "Now, you'd better get it into your head that _no one_ talks to me like that…if you weren't Sansa's sister…"

"Joffrey, let's go," Sansa pleaded, her face clearly unhappy, "We can go somewhere else."

"No, I like it here."

Joffrey then made to push past the people in front of the queue, and there were shouts from everyone behind Arya.

"Hey! We were here _first_." Arya shouted at him.

"So run along and tell your mommy, little girl," he smirked again, "Try and stop me."

Arya found herself grabbing Joffrey's sleeve, "Get to the back and wait like everyone else!"

"Get your hands off me!" Joffrey shoved her hard, and she stumbled.

"Watch it!" Mycah cried, catching Arya and stepping in front of her.

Joffrey was bigger than Mycah, and he shoved the younger boy aside easily. Arya saw Mycah on the ground, and then she lost it.

Suddenly, she'd thrown herself at him, and punched him.

"Arya, no!" Sansa wailed, "You're spoiling everything!"

Joffrey grabbed her arms – he was so much stronger – and tried shaking her off. Arya didn't let go. He took her to the ground. Arya was winded, and Joffrey's knee on her abdomen hurt. She wriggled, trying to get out from under him.

People moved away in shock and surprise.

"Joffrey! Stop!" Sansa wailed, "Let him go, Arya!"

Arya remembered a move that Jon had shown her, and she bucked her hips with all her might, catching Joffrey off-guard, creating just enough room for her to slip out from under him. That was when she noticed that Joffrey still had his hands and knees on the ground,

She latched onto his back and slipped a skinny arm under his chin, locked it with her other arm…and squeezed, cutting off his carotid artery.

That was when people had started laughing and pointing. Phones had started coming out, and that blasted photo had been taken and sent to the Gossip Spyder.

"Tap out, Joff!" Someone yelled, "She's got you in deep!"

Joffrey didn't 'tap out', but he did fall to the ground, his fingers trying to loosen her strangle on him as his face grew as red as a tomato. Arya wasn't sure how long they were on the ground, and then there were adults yelling and the crowd was dispersing.

The café's proprietor had come out, along with her burly husband who had pulled Arya away from Joffrey.

"That was a cheap shot!" Joffrey had screamed at her once he'd regained his feet, "You'll pay for this!"

"Joffrey, please!" Sansa had reached for his arm, but he'd shrugged her off.

"Don't touch me!"

The proprietor had told them to go away, and Arya had been led away by Mycah. Joffrey and Sansa disappeared in the other direction, with Sansa still trying to calm him down.

Arya had avoided Sansa at home, and all of the next day, but Monday morning saw the photo that had been taken outside the café go up on the Gossip Spyder's site. Everyone at school talked about it. Everyone had seen the photo of Arya Stark, who was a foot shorter than Joffrey Baratheon and couldn't have been more than 110lbs, as she'd choked out the blonde pretty-boy.

People sniggered behind hastily cupped hands has Joffrey walked by, or openly behind his back, but no one laughed at him directly. It was impossible that Joffrey hadn't seen the photo, or at least knew of its existence.

By Monday afternoon, Mycah had been seen stumbling into the nurse's office bloodied and bruised, where presumably, his father had been called.

It had been Gendry who'd called her up that evening and told her what had happened to Mycah. He'd even offered to come over when she'd howled and ranted over the phone, but she'd refused him.

Instead, she'd beaten down Sansa's bedroom door, and promptly flew at her sister with fists and fingernails. Sansa had screamed, and Bran had come running in to see his two sisters rolling on the floor pulling at each other's hair. Not being able to put a stop to it, he'd ended up calling their father to intervene.

When Ned had successfully separated them, both Arya and Sansa sported scratched arms and faces, and both were crying.

"It's her stupid boyfriend's fault!" Arya had shouted, "Him and his fucking Dog!"

"Watch your language, Arya!" her father's rebuke had been stern.

"You hit him first!" Sansa cried.

"Joffrey's a bully, but you're too stupid to see it!"

"You humiliated him in front of everyone!"

"That's _enough_!" their father had roared, stunning them into silence.

Ned Stark almost never shouted at them.

He'd gotten both sides of the story eventually, but Sansa had lied.

Sansa's version mentioned nothing of Joffrey pushing ahead of the queue, or shoving Mycah to the ground, or wrestling Arya. However, their father must have sensed the lack of sincerity in her voice. Sansa had never been a good liar.

"Arya, apologize for hitting her," he ordered, "You're sisters. You do not harm each other."

Arya had grumbled an apology, but they all knew she didn't mean it.

"Now, both of you go back to your rooms. I don't want to hear another sound from either of you for the rest of the night."

"What about Mycah? The Hound beat him up!"

"The Hound?" Ned queried.

"Sandor Clegane," Arya replied, "Joffrey's henchman."

"Clegane?" Ned frowned, and Arya knew he'd recognized the name, "Did Mycah say it was him?"

"No, but…"

"Do you have any kind of proof?"

"No, but…"

"You don't know for certain that he was responsible for your friend's injuries."

"But _everyone_ says so!"

"That's hearsay, Arya," Ned bit out, "It's very unfortunate what happened to your friend, but without proof, and unless your friend will name him, there is nothing that can be done about it."

Arya hated feeling helpless. She couldn't do anything to help Mycah.

She couldn't believe that her own sister had allowed an innocent boy to be hurt. She couldn't believe that Sansa had lied to protect her piece-of-shit boyfriend.

That night, still sobbing and desperately missing Jon and wanting to hear his voice, she'd called him.

"Arya? What's wrong?" Jon had asked the moment he'd heard her sniff.

"Are you near your computer?"

"Yeah…why?"

"I'm going to send you something. Don't laugh, okay?" Arya sent him the link to Gossip Spyder's page showing the unfortunate photo that was the cause of her current strife.

"Got it…Oh, shit!" Jon swore, and Arya heard rustling and crackling as though he'd tried to cover the mouthpiece, "Arya? What's going on? You've got this guy in a rear naked choke!"

There'd been laughter in his voice, and in the background Arya could hear Robb and Theon as they investigated what Jon had been laughing about. Then they had started laughing, too.

"That's Joffrey Baratheon!" she heard Robb call out.

"This is partly your fault, Jon," she'd snapped, "If you hadn't shown me all those UFC and MMA videos…"

"_My_ fault? What?"

"You showed me some mixed martial arts moves over the summer, remember? It's your fault I knew how to do that choke hold."

Her beloved brother had sighed, "All right, tell me what this is about."

So she told him everything, and as she talked she started to feel a little better. Jon never judged her, and for that she loved him. Not that he approved of her attacking people, or pulling Sansa's hair, but he understood that impulsiveness and her fiery temper were part of who she was.

"But, your friend is okay?" Jon had asked.

"As far as I know,"

"Then you should be thankful for that," Jon had said, "You've tried to reach out to him, but if he decides he'd rather not keep in contact with you, then you need to respect his choice."

"When did you get so wise?"

"Getting older tends to do that to you, in most cases…although I'm still questioning the wisdom behind my decision to share an apartment with Robb and Theon!"

Arya had chuckled, feeling another pang at the sound of his laugh, "Will you come down for my birthday?"

She purposely didn't mention that Sansa also had a birthday coming up. Their birthdays were days apart, as it turned out. Something that Arya had always resented.

"Birthday? Is that coming up?"

"Jon!"

"I'm kidding! Of course I'll come down."

After she'd hung up, she went to bed thinking of seeing Jon again.

It was still the thought of seeing Jon that kept her motivated to get through school the next few days, while Gendry and Hot Pie found themselves unsure how to handle this brooding, not-shouting version of Arya Stark.

**Gendry**

Gendry walked through the hall where he knew Arya's locker was located, searching for her. She wasn't at her locker, so he turned around and made his way to the quad. He was worried about her. She hadn't been waiting for him that morning, and she hadn't replied to the text message he'd sent her earlier.

She was still very upset about what had happened to Mycah. They all were. It had been so sudden, and so unexpected that he was still coming to grips with it. However, he was used to losing friends and people he cared about. Unlike Arya, he was better able to deal with his anger.

Although, Gendry found it harder to shake the guilt he was feeling. He had been the last person to see Mycah before he'd been attacked.

"If I'd stuck around a minute longer…I might have been able to do something." he'd said.

"No, you wouldn't have," Hot Pie had shaken his head, "If it was really the Hound that did it, you being there wouldn't have made a difference. He'd have just beaten you up, too."

Gendry's ego hadn't liked that. He was six-two, he worked out…and he'd grown up in the neighborhood people referred to as Flea Bottom. He'd been in his share of fights, though Arya and Hot Pie did not know that.

The Hound was a large motherfucker, but Gendry didn't fear him the way other people seemed to. Of course, given the choice, he'd rather not fight anyone, but he wouldn't run away from one either if a friend needed him.

Arya didn't seem to be in the quad, but Gendry had spotted her sister, Sansa, just coming out of the cafeteria. He didn't particularly want to speak to her, but his concern overruled his distaste.

"Sansa, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Sansa looked up at his voice, and seemed surprised to see him, "Gendry, right?"

He nodded, and indicated that she follow him to a table under a tree.

"You're going to ask about Arya," she stated as she sat down along the bench, and a little frown creased her brow.

"Do you know where she is? I haven't seen her all day."

"If she's not here, maybe she's skipped class." Sansa replied.

"Is that something she does often?"

Sansa shrugged, "She's Arya. I don't know how her mind works."

"That's because you're _stupid_!" A little voice rang out over their heads.

Gendry and Sansa both looked up. And there sitting in the branches of the tree above them was Arya. Gendry's stomach almost dropped when he realized how high up she was.

"Arya! What the hell are you doing up there? Get down before you hurt yourself." he stood up.

"He's right, Arya," Sansa said nervously, "Get down before you fall."

"Why do you care?" Arya snapped at her, "Just go away, Sansa. Run to that vile, wormy-lipped asshole you call a boyfriend."

"Fine." Sansa's expression went from hurt, to cold indifference in a split second.

"Fine!" Arya parroted.

Sansa walked away quickly, not looking back.

Gendry looked back up at Arya, "She's gone."

"Why'd you want to talk to her for?"

He shrugged, "You didn't reply to me, and I was worried about you."

"You were worried about me?"

"Yeah," he gave her an impatient look, "That's what friends do. Now, would you please come down?"

_She's such a pain in the ass,_ he thought, but she amused him and there was something about her that he found both annoying, and endearing.

"Okay, but you'll need to move away from the table so I can jump down." Arya replied.

Gendry watched as she nimbly maneuvered her tiny frame between the branches. Her long ponytail snagged amongst the twigs and leaves, and her descent was punctuated with the occasional swear word as strands of her hair snapped and pulled.

"Wait, wait," he said as she reached the lowest limb, "You can't make that jump. I'll catch you."

She snorted, "I got up on my own, I'll get down on my own."

It was at least eight feet from where she hovered on the branch and the ground, but she leapt without second thought, landing first onto the pressed metal table, then to the ground in front of him.

"Nice," he smiled at her, in relief mostly, "Very cat-like. How did you get up there, anyway?"

"Didn't you ever climb trees when you were a kid?"

"There were no trees to climb in Flea Bottom." he said, not thinking.

"Flea Bottom?"

_Ah, shit_.

"Nothing. I never climbed trees," he cleared his throat, "Come on, I haven't had lunch yet and I'm starved."

"Stupid," she muttered, "You could've eaten while you were looking for me."

"…Such a pain…" he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing!" he repeated, "Why were you up in the tree?"

"I skipped last period, and I didn't know where else to go."

"And the obvious thing to do is climb a tree."

She punched him. He laughed. She poked her tongue out at him.

"There are no idiots up in that tree," she said eventually, "And I wanted some place quiet."

Gendry joined the queue at the cafeteria and began loading his tray, "Have you eaten?"

She shook her head, and Gendry grabbed an extra sandwich and soda for her and paid for the food. It was a nice feeling, he thought, being able to do something as simple as shout someone else lunch. He led her to an empty table and placed the sandwich and soda in front of her, watching as she started eating without seeming to taste what she'd put in her mouth.

He didn't ask her why she'd wanted someplace quiet to think.

"I have band practice today, but I can take you home first if you want a ride." he offered instead.

"Can I come with you?" she asked, "I can wander around Trident's Bend and check out the shops if I get bored."

Gendry shrugged, "I guess it'll be okay."

"I just have to be home by seven. My mom likes us all to be home for dinner."

"Band practice finishes at six. I'll have you home before seven."

"What time do your folks like you to be home?"

"The Motts don't really keep tabs on me anymore. I'm seventeen." _And I have a ludicrous amount of money._

In fact, the lawyer had told him he'd receive an allowance of some ridiculous amount every month until he turned twenty-one, upon which he'd receive the sum of his mysterious inheritance. In the meantime, the money was being invested for him, as per the instructions of his unknown benefactor, and his very own accountant would inform him every month of how his wealth was accumulating.

_Fuuuuuucckk!_ Had been his thought at the time. He had an accountant, now. He didn't have a bank account until a few months before.

"The Motts?"

"My foster parents."

"Oh," Arya looked at him quizzically, "Where are your real parents?"

"My mom died when I was six," Gendry kept his voice emotionless, "I don't know who my father was…or is, if he's still even alive."

"Oh,"

"And before you ask, I'll tell you that I've been in foster care since I was six, but I've been with the Motts since I was eleven. They're good people."

"I have a foster brother," she said, "His name's Theon, and he's been with our family since I was five."

"Really?" Gendry wasn't expecting this.

"Yep. He lives with my brothers Robb and Jon up North. They go to the same college."

His curiosity about the Starks grew. All he knew about them was what the Motts had told him, and what he picked up in the news. He'd thought it unusual that Arya Stark had chosen to befriend him to begin with, but the more he learned about them, the less and less they fit the stereotype he'd slotted them into.

Arya was not what he'd expected at all. She wasn't the spoilt little princess he had assumed she would be. She didn't whine, or talk about girly things like make-up and shopping or _Twilight_. She preferred talking about sports, movies and music and unusually, current affairs as well. She was bossy, however, and he was quickly learning that she usually got her way.

Appearance wise, there was nothing princess-like about her. She usually wore denim jeans that looked a size too big, and the vintage tees that she layered over tank tops. Gendry had to admit that he found her pretty. Her face was long and her large, grey doe-like eyes were beautiful. Her slightly lopsided smile revealed perfect little white teeth, and it seemed she'd been blessed with a clear, creamy complexion. She didn't have a zit on her pretty little pixie-face.

Her long dark brown hair was glossy and thick, and he imagined that if she ever dragged a brush through it and let it down, it would fall in a straight, dark curtain down her back.

Put her in a dress, slap some lipstick on her and he could see her giving Sansa a run for her money. The thought made him smile.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," he replied.

"You think about 'nothing' a lot then," she said, "That's stupid."

"Yeah, you said that already," he pretended to yawn, "You're a clever little girl, I'm sure you can come up with something else to call me."

"I'm not a _little_ _girl_!" she hissed at him, violently.

He blinked, surprised at her reaction to those two words, "Uh…"

"I'll be fourteen in three weeks. I've hit puberty! I have…I have _breasts_…" Arya went bright red at the last word.

Gendry's eyes of course went straight to her chest, and in case he hadn't noticed them before, he certainly did now.

"Gendry!" she snapped at him.

_Fuck!_ He raised his eyes to hers and noted she was even redder, having caught _him_ looking!

"Sorry, Arya!" he laughed nervously, trying to make light of this very embarrassing situation that was of _her_ doing, "You don't bring attention to your breasts and not expect a guy to look."

"You're such a…such a _boy_!" she huffed, then she picked up her backpack and stood up, not bothering to wait for him, "I'll see you in the student lot after school."

He was laughing as he watched her walk away, and he was still chuckling when he bumped into Hot Pie later in class.

"Where were you?" Gendry asked him.

"Talking to Mrs. Gage, the Home Ec teacher," he replied, "She wanted to know what I put in my cherry pie filling."

Gendry rolled his eyes.

"What about you? Did you find Arya?"

"Yeah, I did…she was sitting in a tree…"

As Gendry told him about it, he couldn't help thinking about Arya's blushing face. He'd had every intention of trying to cheer her up when he'd first set out to find her, or at least try and get her mind off of Mycah, Joffrey and the Hound. He could confidently say he'd achieved his goal, though not quite the way he'd planned it.

* * *

**Arya**

Arya was waiting for Gendry at the steps that led to the student car park after school, and when he turned up she made a point of pretending nothing weird had happened earlier, though it appeared he'd already forgotten about that embarrassing little incident.

"Ready to go?" he asked, expression completely normal.

"Yeah, let's go." she'd relaxed then.

She'd felt uncomfortably warm when she'd found Gendry staring at her chest. It was the first time she'd ever been aware of a guy checking her out.

_I wonder if he liked what he saw?_ Arya gasped at her thought, and when Gendry shot her a look, she turned it to a cough.

"Tell me about your brothers, and your foster-brother." he said, turning his eyes to the road.

She was more than happy to talk about Robb, Jon and Theon. Robb was studying business in preparation to join their father at Stark Industries one day, Jon was studying to be an architect, and Theon was taking classes in political science.

"Jon's coming to visit me for my birthday. Maybe you could meet him," she told him, "You both play guitar, actually he was trying to teach me to play before we moved down here."

"For real? You play?"

"I said he was _trying to teach me_," Arya gave him a look, "I know a few chords, and I can sort of read tablature, that's about it."

"That's great! Is it something you want to take up again?"

"Maybe, but I'd have to get a guitar first."

"Hey, there's a music store close to The Hollow. They sell guitars there. You could check it out if you want." he suggested.

"Maybe I will." she shrugged.

The Hollow was located in the waterfront district of Trident's Bend, so named for the Trident River, upon the shores of which the bustling esplanade lined with boutique shops and restaurants had been built. The area's most famous landmark was The Inn of the Kneeling Man, a grey stone, whitewashed wood and slate roofed establishment. It was a boutique hotel, but boasted a bistro during the day, as well as a popular bar and lounge at night. It was referred to simply as _The Inn_ by the locals.

"Hey, we'll have to check that place out," Gendry said as they drove by it, "I heard the food was good."

"Sure…" Arya said absently, distracted instead by the shop next to The Inn.

_Forel's Music Store_, read the sign at the front. Arya figured this was the music store Gendry had mentioned.

Gendry parked his BMW in a secure garage near The Hollow, and took Hammer down from the backseat. Together they walked inside the burger-joint-musichall-gallery. Gendry was greeted by name, and he smiled back at everyone.

"Do you know all these people?" Arya asked him.

"Nope," he grinned, leading her into the second room, and down a hallway she hadn't seen the first time she'd been there, "I think my audition being broadcast on that Spyder's site has something to do with it."

"Where are you taking me?" Arya noted now the bare cement walls and fluorescent lighting as they descended a flight of stairs.

"The basement. That's where band practices."

"Really?"

"Yep. Beric's parents own this place, and they've let him use the basement as the band's headquarters. It's pretty cool actually, it's air-conditioned and the room is soundproofed so we can make as much noise as we want and the diners upstairs won't hear a thing."

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Arya saw a sliding door to one side. Gendry slid the door open and stepped back to let Arya through.

"It's a man cave." Arya laughed when she saw the basement for the first time.

Beric's man cave was equipped with two black suede covered couches that lined one wall, a fridge, a 55" Plasma TV and sound system and an assortment of games consoles tucked into built-in recesses in the walls. There was an obligatory dart board in a far corner, while posters of the group's icons and heroes covered up most of the grey concrete walls.

In the centre of the room was a drum-kit, as well as keyboards, a collection of microphones on stands, amplifiers and a network of cables snaking around the floor.

To top it all off, Beric even had his own amateur recording studio in a walled-off section of the room. Through the glass partition, Arya could see his computer, two screens and a small control panel that she assumed was for the recording implements.

Beric was in there, and he came out and smiled at them when he saw them.

"Hey, guys. Arya Stark, right? We didn't really get a proper introduction last time."

"That's right," Arya smiled back, "This place is awesome!"

"Thanks. My parents were surprisingly happy to let me use it, probably because it means they won't be bothered at home. Besides, they weren't using the space."

"Beric, is it okay if Arya hangs around?" Gendry asked, "She promises me she won't be any trouble."

"I didn't promise you anything," Arya rolled her eyes.

"Sure, no problem," Beric gave her a funny smirk, "I wouldn't want to say no to a girl who could put me to sleep in a choke hold."

Arya narrowed her eyes at him, although she wasn't surprised he'd also seen the photo.

"I think I'll go up and get something to eat."

Without waiting for their response, she left and made her way back up to the restaurant. She had a feeling that no one was going to allow her to forget that incident in a hurry. Everyone thought it was funny, but everyone seemed to have forgotten that Mycah had gotten hurt because of it.

It angered her to realize that outside of their little group, no one else at school cared about Mycah. He was just some unknown, unimportant freshman.

_Fuck you, Joffrey. Fuck you, Hound._ She thought.

Arya determined then, that no one else would get hurt because of her.

She ordered herself some fries and a soda, and she ate quietly while perusing through a magazine she found on a rack. By the time she'd finished, her temper had cooled and she found her way back down to the basement.

The other band members, Thoros, Tom and Edric had turned up in her absence, and were already in possession of their instruments in the middle of the room.

"Arya, make yourself at home," Beric said, indicating the couches.

She sprawled herself out on one of the couches and watched them for a moment as they began running through a new number. Beric was meticulous, and he kept stopping to make changes to an arrangement or telling the guys exactly how he wanted them to sound.

She studied Gendry's band members to keep herself occupied during these breaks. Thoros Myr was a big guy with a shaved head, and had a tattoo of a flaming sword that ran all the way up his right fore-arm. Tom Sevenstreams was a small guy, with a pointy nose and thin brown hair, and a half-smile that seemed to be fixed on his big mouth. The drummer, Edric, looked about sixteen and had pale blond hair and dark blue eyes that appeared purple in a certain light.

Edric had smiled at her when he'd caught her looking. She'd looked away hurriedly.

Soon, Arya found herself getting restless when it became obvious that watching the band practice wasn't as fun as she'd imagined it would be, and restlessness was never a good sign. She caught Gendry's eye.

"I'll be back," she mouthed at him, and for the second time she left the basement.

Out on the street, she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the light from the comparative dimness of the basement, before she started walking towards the music store she'd seen earlier. She meant to head there directly, but she kept stopping and looking into the windows of the funky boutiques she passed by.

She even went inside a cool little store that sold hand embellished denim and tooled leather cuffs. She wasn't a big shopper like Sansa, but she still appreciated good quality like any other girl. The young woman behind the counter looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, and pretty much epitomized Arya's idea of _cool_.

The woman wore tight denim jeans, with a studded leather belt, black ankle boots and a black batwing blouse that she knotted on her hip. One shoulder was bared, and underneath her blouse was a meant-to-be-seen bra, in leopard print fabric, though only the strap was actually showing. She wore a leather cuff on one wrist, and a man style watch on the other. Her dark hair was chopped short into a structured bob. She looked sexy and tough at the same time.

No one looking at her would ever call her _little girl_.

Impulsively, as was typical of her, Arya went up to the woman and gave her what she hoped looked like a confident smile.

"I have a credit card, and thirty minutes. I'm about to turn fourteen, and I want to look like it. Dress me."

The young woman gave her a quick once-over, then she grinned at Arya, "Thirty minutes, huh?"

In five minutes, the woman had worked out Arya's preferences and had thrown her into a dressing room with a selection of distressed and washed denims, embellished skirts, studded belts, fitted T's and layering pieces.

A little over thirty minutes later, Arya walked out of the store with two black glossy shopping bags, pleased with herself. She also managed to get the woman to give her the name of the stylist who cut her hair. Perhaps it was time she got rid of her childish ponytail as well.

It was five-thirty by the time she eventually made it to Forel's Music Store, her original destination. The store was quiet due to the lateness of the hour. It was almost closing time, and Arya was the only person there. With the limited time she had, she made directly for the guitars displayed towards the rear of the shop. The range was quite extensive, and she had no real idea what she was looking for. She probably should have asked Gendry to come with her, she thought.

She looked at the tags hanging from the necks and read the descriptions. Acoustic, classical, electric, steel string, acoustic/ electric, cutaway, D series, G series, solid top…Arya frowned. Then she looked at the brands (Epiphone, Fender, Gibson, Yamaha), and then the woods and colors…she shook her head in puzzlement.

"A girl looks lost."

Arya spun around at the sound of the husky male voice and found a handsome youth with unusual red and platinum streaked hair gazing down at her, with an amused half-smile gracing his lips. Jaqen H'ghar, she recalled his name.

"Oh…hi." she said, surprised. She hadn't even heard him approach her.

"Do you remember me?" he asked.

How was it possible to forget him? She wondered. Not only did she remember him, she also remembered the feel of his large hands on her waist, the grip of his fingers when he'd refused to let her go, the heat of his lap against the back of her thighs, his spicy male scent…and also the weird reaction she'd had to him that time.

She was having that weird reaction again she realized, as he stood there looking at her, waiting for her answer.

"Yes, I remember you."

His half-smile became a full smile at her words, "Are you looking for something? Can I be of service to you?"

She'd noticed the first time they'd met that he had an accent, and she now wondered where he was from. European, perhaps? Wherever he was from, English was not his native tongue.

He sounded freaking sexy.

"Do you work here?" Arya asked him.

"No," he shook his head, "But I know the owner very well, and I am here so often that I know where everything is."

"Right. Um…I was thinking of maybe getting a guitar."

"So, you wish to learn to play?"

"I guess so," she shrugged, "Do you play?"

"A little." he replied.

At that moment, a bald man with a slight build and a beaky nose emerged from a doorway behind the counter.

"Ah, Jaqen! You are here just in time…I have just finished with your guitar," said the man, his accent heavy and lilting, "Stay there, I will bring it for you."

The man disappeared behind the doorway again, and came back out carrying a slim black guitar case. Jaqen took it from him with a slight bow.

"Many thanks, Syrio." Jaqen said.

"You are most welcome," the bald man turned to Arya, "You will introduce me to your pretty friend, yes?"

"Of course," Jaqen introduced Arya to Syrio Forel, before telling the man that she was looking into learning to play the guitar.

"Then you have come to the best place!" Syrio said enthusiastically, "And Jaqen is the best person to be telling you about guitars. You have heard him play? Not yet? Jaqen you must fix that, no delay!"

Jaqen laughed, "If a girl would like to hear me play, then I shall do so gladly. Now, weren't you about to close up the shop?"

Syrio snapped his finger, "Yes, I was! Okay, it was a pleasure meeting with you, Arya Stark. You come back to Syrio's when you are ready to choose your guitar, and if Jaqen will not give you lessons, then please keep Syrio in mind."

"Sure," Arya couldn't help but smile at him, "I will, thank you."

When Syrio had left them alone, Arya looked up at Jaqen with a raised brow, "You play _a little_, huh?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders, "I play a little of everything."

"Hmm." she frowned.

"What?"

"I can't decide whether you're being modest, or just a liar."

Jaqen narrowed his eyes at her, "Such a sweet looking girl, but one would never know that you had such sharp fangs."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I have seen your photo, sweet girl, on the Spyder's website." he grinned.

Appalled, Arya spun around to walk away, "I don't want to talk about that!"

He caught her arm as she made to pass him, "Wait," he said, "I apologize. I did not mean to cause offense."

"I've got to go," she said.

"Let me walk you."

They left Syrio's shop together, and Arya shifted her shopping bags to one arm so that they wouldn't knock Jaqen's guitar case.

"What did you have done to your guitar?"

"Syrio replaced the strings and tuned it for me. He has perfect pitch and has no need for a tuner," he replied, seemingly glad that she was still talking to him, "Where am I taking you to?"

"The Hollow."

"Arya, I am sorry if I have upset you," he said sincerely.

"It's fine, just drop it." she snapped.

He shrugged, "Your guitarist friend is rehearsing with the band tonight?"

"Yes, I'm supposed to meet him back at The Hollow in a few minutes."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Arya snorted and shot him a glare, "No, and it's none of your business even if he was."

Jaqen smiled, and didn't say anything for some moments. They reached The Hollow, and he held the door open for her. He followed her to a vacant table.

Arya wondered why everyone was staring at them.

"How old are you, Arya?" he asked suddenly.

"Almost fourteen, why?"

Jaqen's brows raised a bit at her response, "You are young. Still a little girl."

"I am not a _little_ _girl_." Arya's fists had clenched. She didn't hiss at him like she had with Gendry, but her anger was difficult to miss in the tone of her voice.

That was twice now that she had been called _little girl_ in the one day. What would she have to do to make people see that she wasn't a little girl anymore?

Jaqen seemed to sense the change in her mood.

"You mistake my meaning," he began, "If you would give me your phone –"

"Gendry!" Arya called out, drowning out the rest of Jaqen's words, "Over here!"

She'd just seen Gendry emerge from the other room carrying his guitar case, with Edric beside him.

Gendry spotted her, having heard her call out his name, and made his way over to the table she shared with Jaqen.

* * *

**Gendry**

Gendry had made a face as he and Beric had watched Arya leave the basement after Beric's poor joke about not wanting to say no to a girl who could choke him out. Arya had not been impressed.

"Too soon?"Beric had asked, looking sheepish.

"Way, too soon," Gendry had said, "She's pretty cut up about what happened to Mycah."

Beric sighed, "I'm hopeless at talking to girls."

"Aren't you dating Edric's cousin, or aunt or something?"

"Allyria, yeah. She's Edric's youngest aunt," It was Beric's turn to make a face, "I have a tendency to say the wrong thing around her, too. Allyria keeps promising to kill me each time I go and put my foot in it…If she actually followed through with her threats, I'd be dead seven times over!"

"And yet you're the guy that writes these brilliant lyrics." Gendry pointed out.

"Irony is a bitch." Beric stated.

The guys arrived soon after, and Beric was keen to get started.

"It's five weeks until the first heats…that's not a lot of time!" he kept saying.

Arya returned, but there was something in her expression that made him start to worry all over again. She kept fidgeting, and staring, then switching positions on the couch.

She looked restless, and he was almost glad when she indicated she was going for a walk. She distracted him, and not always in a good way.

"Why are you hanging around a freshman girl?" Edric had asked him during another break. Beric was re-arranging a bass sequence with Thoros.

"Arya's pretty cool…once you get past the bossiness."

After practice had ended, Gendry had taken his time packing up, seeing as Arya hadn't returned. The guys had wondered off to get food and drinks. He'd thought Edric had left, but he came back and stood in front of Gendry.

"So, you're not, you know…interested in her?"

"Who?"

"Arya."

"What? No." Gendry had denied automatically, though he frowned. He hadn't thought about her that way.

"Good thing, then." Edric shrugged.

"Why's that?"

"Because, I just saw Jaqen H'ghar chatting her up."

"Who's he?"

"Only the biggest threat we have in the competition," Edric replied, "He's the vocalist of the band _The Faceless Men_."

"And why should I be worried?" Gendry wasn't sure if he was referring to Arya or to the competition, but Edric answered both questions anyway.

"One, girls are constantly throwing themselves at him, and Arya won't be any different. Secondly, the guy is like…a musical genius! He can pick up any instrument and play it, plus he writes most of the songs for the band. He's a real threat."

He moved faster after that, almost slamming his guitar case lid down on his fingers. He walked upstairs with Edric and entered the restaurant just as he heard Arya's voice.

"Gendry! Over here!"

He spotted her quickly, and he and Edric walked over. He noted that Jaqen H'ghar looked to be the same age as him. His hair was trippy, but he could see how girls could like him.

Arya stood up, followed by Jaqen who held out his hand for him to shake. Gendry took it, returning the pressure equally.

"You are Gendry Waters."

"And you're Jaqen H'ghar."

"Does everyone around here know each other?" Arya asked, looking from one to the other.

"Seems so," Gendry replied, "Jaqen's the lead singer of the band _The Faceless Men_. He's in the competition, too."

"He is?" Arya's eyes grew wider, and prettier, with her surprise.

"It is true," Jaqen said with a shrug, and gave Arya a look, "I meant to tell you."

Edric had spotted Jaqen's guitar case, and he suddenly spoke up.

"Hey Arya, Jaqen's a pretty freakin' awesome guitarist…It looks like you've definitely got competition now, Gendry!"

Gendry had a strong suspicion that Edric had meant that on more than one level.

* * *

**A/N Please note that Syrio's appearance here is as he has been described in AGOT.**


	5. Episode 5 No True Knight

**Hi all, sorry to keep you waiting. I had a Guest reviewer wanting to clarify the ages I've set for these characters – I now realize others may have the same question. Please see my profile page for the answer. I also want to say that this fic is primarily about the Stark girls, and any mention or inclusion of other known ASOIAF characters would be just to enhance a plot or create a background story for the girls. Perhaps I'll write another fic that includes more of our best loved/ loathed characters!**

**To the same Guest reviewer, thank you for thinking that I rock!**

**To JuliaAurelia – that Beric/ death reference was for you!**

**To the followers of this story and those of you who are still reading it, thank you for your patience! Thanks again to all who have left reviews - your comments and inputs feed the creative beast in me...**

**A word of warning - there is some violence ahead.**

* * *

**Episode 5**

"**No True Knight"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Hey peeps! Don't forget that the first official game is this Friday night – our _White Knights _vs Braavos Academy's _Sealords_. If the exhibition game last week is anything to go by, we know our varsity team is definitely in with a chance to win this year's championship! Braavos Academy _stole_ that championship from us last season, so don't expect our guys to let that go unpunished!

_Go White Knights!_

It seems Arya Stark has been on your radars this week – she was spotted walking along the esplanade at Trident's Bend with a young manreported to be a senior from Braavos Academy…I'll update as soon as I know more, but it looks like the younger Stark sister is about to start playing the dating game!

Perhaps big sister Sansa can give you some pointers, hey Arya? Oh, wait…you girls aren't talking to each other right now…tsk tsk…so sad.

That's all for now!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Sansa**

It had been almost an entire week since the _incident_, and Joffrey's mood had lightened considerably since the Gossip Spyder had first posted the photo on Monday. In fact, his mood had shifted by the time the second post on Tuesday morning had gone up. She hadn't wanted to believe that it was anything to do with the injured freshman boy that the Spyder wrote of.

After the disastrous way their date had ended, she had seriously thought he wouldn't want anything to do with her anymore, especially after he'd completely ignored her on Monday. But Joffrey had been waiting for her at the school gate on Tuesday morning, and he'd smiled and kissed her like nothing had happened.

She hadn't wanted to believe that Arya's ginger-haired friend had really been hurt. Neither Joffrey nor the Hound said anything to her about it, or even remotely alluded to it. If Joffrey and the Hound were in any way responsible for Mycah Butcher leaving King's Landing Prep, it was not discussed in front of her.

Even though Sansa had no proof of their involvement, it did not stop her from looking at Joffrey in a different light, or developing a new wariness around Sandor Clegane.

After seeing Joffrey lose his temper, and watching him wrestling her younger and much smaller sister, she knew she couldn't look at him the same way. Boys were not meant to hurt girls, even if the girl had struck first…even if she'd been provoked by the said boy.

She hadn't exactly lied to her father when he'd questioned her about the incident. She'd just chosen to omit certain details. Was that the same as lying? The guilt ate at her all the same.

She'd seen something in Joffrey that she didn't like, but she wasn't sure what she wanted to do about it. Everyone had their flaws, she knew that, but she'd also been taught that everyone should be given a second chance.

Did she still want to be with Joffrey? She'd asked herself. _I think so. Maybe. Yes, I guess._

Was she willing to give him another chance? She hadn't been able to answer that, but the fact she hadn't resisted him when he'd kissed her on Tuesday was answer enough.

_Or you were just avoiding a confrontation,_ said a voice in her head. _You're a coward._

The anticipation of the football game against Braavos Academy had seen Joffrey almost completely himself again, and Sansa found herself breathing easier. There had been tense moments however, when people hadn't quite managed to hide their sniggers behind their hands fast enough. At those times, Sansa did wonder if Joffrey would snap. However, Sandor Clegane's presence seemed to have a curbing influence on him, and one look from the scarred guy was all it took for Joff to ignore the giggles, and angrily walk away.

Anyhow, it had rapidly become old news and people were moving onto new gossip.

Apparently, Arya was seeing some senior from another school. She'd have paid money to see it with her own eyes.

"Sansa," A rasping voice said above her head, and she looked up from her locker to find Sandor behind her. "Joff's looking for you."

"Oh, okay. I won't be long. Where is he?"

"Waiting in the quad."

She expected him to leave then, but he didn't. Sandor waited for her to finish fumbling in her locker, and then proceeded to walk with her to the quad. He was a step behind her, walking on her left, but his strides were longer than hers and sometimes his arm brushed against her back. She tensed each time this happened, but the hallway was crowded, and it was difficult to widen the gap between them without seeming rude.

Sandor had also not made any reference to the odd conversation-slash-confession they'd had the night after the Prep versus College game. She still had no idea why he'd told her those things about his scars, and his childhood. She'd never asked him about himself, but he'd told her anyway…and then threatened to make her regret it if she ever told anyone.

His arm brushed her back again, and this time she shivered from the contact.

"Cold?" He asked her.

_No. It's because of you. _

"I'll be fine once we're out in the sun." She replied.

It was the _not knowing_ part that really got to her, she realized. She wanted to know if Joffrey had told Sandor to hurt that boy. She wanted to know if Sandor had done it. And if he had, Sansa wanted to know _why_?

Aware of his intimidating presence beside her, and knowing what little of him that she did, she couldn't and didn't want to believe that Sandor Clegane was not in control of his own actions. He was called the Hound because he trailed after Joffrey like a damned guard-dog. _Seriously, _she thought, _you don't bite on command too, do you?_

He didn't strike her as the type to be pushed around. Which brought her to her next and more disturbing thought; _What if he'd done it because he'd wanted to?_

What would she do if she got her answers? What would she do if she didn't like what she heard?

Sandor reached around from behind her and pushed open the glass doors leading to the quad, and followed after her. Joffrey was at a table with Trant and Blount, as well as Randa, Mya and Ros. Sansa saw Jeyne approaching from the cafeteria, and the sight of the unpretentious girl brought her an odd sort of comfort. Miss Mordane had taught her that it was important to be humble, and it was way too easy to get caught up in the things that came with wealth and popularity. Jeyne was her grounding influence. She'd never really had friends before, and now she was surrounded by people.

"There you are!" Joffrey called out across the quad when he saw her.

Sansa made to hasten her pace, but the unexpected touch of Sandor's fingertips at the small of her back made her slow down, although she didn't look up at him.

"Sansa," He growled quietly. "Things…aren't always as they seem."

Before she could ask him what he meant, he'd sidestepped her and his long strides carried him towards Joffrey's table ahead of her.

Between Joffrey and the excitable group of cheerleaders around her, Sansa's attention was fully occupied, and though she tried to catch Sandor's eyes several times, he ignored her. Neither did he give her a chance to say anything when lunch was over, dashing off almost before the bell had rung.

_One more question to join the others,_ she thought, _what isn't as it seems?_

* * *

**Arya**

Arya picked her hair up, caught it in a fist and raised it to her head, twirling it around to make some kind of bun. It didn't look right, making her face look tight and her forehead too big. She started again, this time just letting it hang down her back. She pushed a headband onto her head to keep her hair out of her face, and swore when the reflection in the mirror showed an even younger version of herself. Angrily, she snatched off the headband and ended up pulling the brown mop into her usual high ponytail.

_Good thing I managed to get that booking with the stylist tomorrow._ She hadn't wasted time in calling up the salon the girl at the boutique had told her about. She wasn't sure what she wanted done yet, but it would have to be something drastic. She glanced at the bags of new clothes that were sitting on her bedroom floor. She couldn't wear those clothes until her hair had been done.

She made a face.

_Fuck, I've just committed myself to a makeover._ Arya hated this kind of stuff, and yet she'd voluntarily sentenced herself to one, so people would stop calling her _little girl._

She half expected to see pigs flying outside her window.

Her cell phone beeped. Gendry and Hot Pie were on their way to pick her up so they could watch the game that night. Arya hadn't been at KLP long enough to develop any kind of school spirit, so she wasn't going to cheer on her school team – especially when both Joffrey and the Hound were on it. She was going to watch in the hope that the Braavos Academy boys would do what she couldn't, and pummel Joffrey and the Hound to the ground. That and she just liked to watch football. Any pummeling was a bonus.

Gendry had been acting weird since the night he'd met Jaqen H'ghar. He'd even gone all protective when Hot Pie had shown them the post on Gossip Spyder's site about Arya being seen with a Braavos Academy senior.

"Jaqen's a senior?" Gendry had asked.

"If that's the guy Arya was walking with, then yes," Hot Pie replied. "He _is_ the guy you were seen with, wasn't it?"

Arya had shrugged, unconcerned.

"You should be careful, Arya." Gendry had said.

"About Jaqen?" She'd sputtered, incredulous.

"You don't know the guy."

"I didn't know you two weeks ago, either." She'd pointed out.

"He's too old for you."

"Excuse me? He can't be more than eighteen, and that's hardly ancient."

"So, you're going to date him?"

"That's none of your business," Arya had frowned. "You sounded just like him then, he asked me the same thing."

"About who?"

"_You_, stupid." She'd gone pink.

"Jaqen asked if you were dating me?" Gendry had looked at her funny. "What did you say?"

"I said _no_, of course!" She'd looked surprised. "We're friends."

Gendry's cheeks had taken a shade of red too, and Hot Pie had sat between them, amused.

Arya sighed and pushed away from her dresser, before making her way downstairs to wait for Gendry. She passed Sansa's bedroom on the way down and overheard her sister talking to someone on the phone through the partially open door.

_Probably to one of those dumb cheerleaders about her pathetic boyfriend, _she thought. The Spyder had got it right about her and Sansa. They hadn't spoken since the night they had fought. Arya did not see or understand what in the world her stupid sister could possibly see in Joffrey, but Sansa was not known for ever seeing beyond the superficial. Her sister only ever saw a handsome face and charming smile, while she was completely blind to the monster lurking beneath.

Arya determined that there was no way in hell she would ever take dating or relationship advice from _anyone_ that was dating Joffrey Baratheon.

She had not made any attempts to hide her distaste for Joffrey or anyone in his crowd if she passed them in the halls at school. She reserved her dirtiest scowls for the Hound. The ugly brute always stared back, but she never flinched, regardless of how scary he looked.

She heard Gendry's car coming up the driveway, and she bolted out the door to meet them. Hot Pie was riding shot-gun, so she climbed into the back seat behind Hot Pie.

"Let's go," She tapped Gendry's seat, "I don't want to be here when Sansa's friends come to pick her up."

Gendry obeyed. "You guys want to grab dinner first?"

"Yeah, okay. Something greasy would be good."

"There's this place I know on the way." Hot Pie said, and gave Gendry directions to get there.

Hot Pie's directions led them to a small diner that served good, honest, unpretentious food and Arya found a little happiness in a chicken burger and bowl of wedges and sour cream.

"Who do you think will win tonight's game?" Hot Pie asked as they ate.

"I'd bet on the Braavos boys, if only it'll mean Joff or the Hound get their heads pounded in first." Arya replied.

Gendry and Hot Pie shared a look.

"You're just about the most violent girl we know." Gendry stated. "This week, we've heard you threaten to castrate the Hound, hang and quarter Joffrey, shove a hot poker up the Hound's you-know-what, and strangle Joffrey with his own innards."

"That's just to start with," Her smile was evil, "But you'd both lose your appetites if I were to tell you what I'd do after that."

"I'd like to keep my dinner down, thank you very much." Hot Pie cleared his throat, then changed the subject. "So what's with this Braavosi senior, Arya?"

"Jaqen?" She blushed as she said his name, and didn't notice Gendry's lips form a thin line. "There's nothing to tell."

"You're really considering dating him." Gendry stated.

"Don't be stupid," She said, "I've only met him twice."

"Twice?" Gendry had stopped eating. "I thought you only met him yesterday."

"No, I met him the first time at your audition. He was there that afternoon, and I fell into his lap."

"You _fell_ into his _lap_?"

It sounded like it was a bad thing, the way Gendry said it.

"Yeah. Uh…someone bumped me and I would have fallen but Jaqen caught me…it's nothing. Can we drop it, now?"

"Do you know if he'll be coming to the game tonight?" Hot Pie asked.

"I never asked him. I didn't know he went to Braavos Academy."

Hot Pie continued, "His band is in the comp too, right? It'd be interesting to meet Gendry's competition!"

"I really wish you'd be careful, Arya." Gendry repeated what he'd told her at school that day.

"You're starting to sound like my brother," Arya muttered. "Jon gave me all these warnings about boys too before we moved. It was actually really _annoying_."

"I'm not your brother." Gendry scowled. "I'm not trying to be annoying."

"Then stop acting like my brother." She snapped.

His blue eyes widened at her words, and he stared at her for several moments.

"Then I won't." He finally said.

* * *

**Sandor**

Sandor glanced at the clock on the scoreboard and swore when he noticed that time seemed to be moving ridiculously slow. It was still only the second quarter of their first game against Braavos Academy, and he'd never felt less enthusiastic about football as he did at that moment.

There was too much noise, the floodlights seemed too bright, and there were too many eyes watching. Braavos Academy's _Sealords_ had won the championship last season, and so many people had turned out to see if their first game against the _White Knights_ could live up to the hype that had been created around didn't give a shit about the game. This was unusual for him, as normally he couldn't wait to get out onto the field.

He hadn't been himself since the night he'd given Sansa Stark a ride home. _Little bird_, as he'd come to think of her. She had been on his mind since the party at Joffrey's place.

He never meant to snap at her. She hadn't done anything to deserve his ire, but he'd been so angry that night. Angry at his brother, annoyed at Joffrey and still pumped from a combination of too much testosterone and adrenaline from the fight. He'd found himself lashing out at her when all she'd done was pay him a compliment.

Then he found he couldn't stop talking, and before he'd known it, he'd gone and told her his darkest secret. The one frightening truth he'd never told anyone before. Not even Gregor had told anyone about it. _Probably because it'll confirm what a psychopathic motherfucker he is_, Sandor thought bitterly.

He'd had Sansa on the brain as wel lwhen he'd decided he was going to stick his nose into the business between Joffrey and Arya Stark.

_Because the little bird touched your shoulder and said something to you out of kindness. What the hell is wrong with you, you sappy mutt?_

"Clegane! Move it!" Coach Selmy barked at him when he took too long to spur into action after the snap.

He started running, spotting the _Sealord's _quarterback…but he didn't see the offensive lineman bearing down on him, and the next thing he knew he was face down on the ground with a two-hundred pound lineman on his back. He heard the crowd occupying the visitor's bleachers roar in approval.

It was rare for Sandor Clegane to be taken down.

_Sonofabitch, focus!_

He got back on his feet and got ready for the next down.

_Things aren't always as they seem_, he'd told Sansa earlier. The words had been said before he'd realized he'd spoken. Then he'd panicked and bolted before she had the chance to was no denying that he made her nervous, and it had gotten worse since Gossip Spyder's post on Tuesday morning. He hated that, but he had known it would happen.

His stomach had been churning unpleasantly for a good part of the week. He'd woken up to an SMS alert from the Gossip Spyder on Monday, and the pains in his stomach had started at about the same time he'd stopped laughing at the photo of Joffrey getting choked out by the tiny Stark girl.

When he'd realised just how serious the situation was, he'd sworn so foully and loudly that his housekeeper, Mrs. Jimenez, had banged on his bedroom door to see if he was okay.

He'd gotten a message from Joffrey almost immediately.

_"The bitch will pay."_ It had read.

When Sandor had arrived at school, all he'd had to do was stand at his locker long enough and listen to people talk around him to get the story behind the photo on the Spyder's site. From what he'd heard, it seemed Joff had been asking for it, but had never expected the younger Stark sister to get the better of him.

"Someone has to _bleed_ for this." Were Joff's first words to him.

Sandor's immediate thought was of diminutive Arya with a busted lip and a black eye. She'd been extremely lucky to have caught Joffrey by surprise that time, but he knew that if Joffrey _really_ wanted to hurt her, then he would.

"You can't touch Arya." He'd surprised himself by saying.

Joff had snorted angrily, "Why not? The little bitch has to learn not to mess with me."

Sandor had made sure to keep his voice level when he answered. He had to be smart about how he worded things with Joffrey.

"Think about what you're saying, Joff." He'd rasped, "You're talking about beating up a _girl._"

"She hit me first!"

_You petulant prick! _Sandor had thought, though his expression hadn't changed.

"Whatever. It doesn't…"

"She made a fool out of me!"Joff seethed, his voice had risen and had started to attract the attention of other students. "She can't get away with this!"

And Sandor had realized that there would be no talking Joff out of getting his revenge.

"_Someone will bleed_." Joff had said again.

Who? Sandor had wondered…before a horrible possibility had come to him.

_Sansa._

It would be all too easy for Joffrey to punish Sansa for whatever wrong he believed Arya had done to him. He knew Joff well enough to know that all that the jerk wanted from Sansa was sex. She meant nothing to Joffrey. The guy was incapable of affection for anyone other than himself. Sansa was a pretty toy to play with, but Joff was known for breaking his toys. Joffrey had a cruel streak, and he could make Sansa suffer.

Sandor had not wanted Joffrey to chance upon the same thought, and he'd changed tactics.

"If you really want revenge, you'll have to get it some other way. You can't have Stark blood."

_Not Arya's…and definitely not Sansa's._

"It's Arya I want to bleed."

"I told you already," Sandor had repeated. "It can't happen."

"You're _telling_ me?"

Sandor had shrugged. "It's not just about you, Joff. Think about it. Stark Industries and Baratheon Corp have just formed a partnership, and from what I hear your father needs Ned Stark. What do you think would happen if one of Ned's daughters turned up bleeding and word got around that you were somehow involved?"

He'd been thinking on his feet, without knowing if it would work, but he had to try. Joffrey appeared to think about it, before he'd finally let out a frustrated grunt.

"Fuck!" Joffrey had seen his point, "Then, who?"

"I don't know," Sandor had shrugged again. "Think about it a bit."

"I know who!" Joff had smiled and laughed cruelly, "The little bitch's ginger friend. He'll be my new punching bag…"

Sandor had remembered the last kid Joff had used as a punching bag. Joff had made that kid's life a living hell for close to a year. From memory, the kid had insulted Joffrey by calling him an _inbred bastard_. Whether he was inbred, Sandor couldn't say, but he'd bet money that the blond jerk was a bastard. Joffrey looked nothing like Robert Baratheon.

Sandor had had little to do with that kid's misery. Between Joffrey, Trant and Blount, the kid not only lost lunch money, he'd also been beaten up, locked in the janitor's closet, stuffed into a dumpster, humiliated in front of the class, and beaten up some more until finally the kid was nothing but a scared,sniveling mess that jumped at the sound of someone sneezing.

The kid should have known better than to insult Joffrey, so Sandor had ignored the initial bullying. But Joffrey always broke his toys, and Sandor had never liked seeing an already beaten dog get kicked and kicked again. He'd also known that there would be no respite for the kid, so long as Joffrey still found it amusing to torment him.

Sandor had put him out of his misery one afternoon when he found he couldn't just stand to watch any longer. Joffrey had dragged the kid behind a dumpster for yet another round of torture, but Sandor had found himself stepping in and telling Joff to move aside. As Joffrey watched, he'd put up a good show of beating the kid up. He made sure the kid yelled and pleaded, nothing else would have convinced Joffrey, but he broke no bones and made sure the kid would be able to walk away. When the kid appeared to have had enough, he'd pulled the boy up and slammed him against a wall, before he'd hissed a low warning at him so that Joff wouldn't hear.

"I don't want to see you back at this school again, _do you understand?_"

It seemed the kid had. He never came back.

Sandor's reputation had taken a beating, however. No one seemed to remember that Joffrey and the others had picked on this kid mercilessly for months before. Everyone only remembered that it was the Hound who'd cornered the kid and beat him up so bad he was too scared to come back to school.

"Yeah, I'll make the ginger-kid my new punching bag." Joffrey had said again.

Sandor's lip had curled in distaste. This hadn't been what he'd mind, but at least Joffrey wasn't insisting on going after the Stark sisters anymore. The ginger-kid had done nothing to Joffrey, and didn't deserve whatever torment Joffrey had in mind for him. He hadn't meant for anyone else to get hurt, but at least he could make sure the kid's suffering wasn't prolonged.

Sandor had decided that his reputation could take another beating.

"Let me break him in for you." He'd made himself snarl.

Joffrey's eyes had gleamed cruelly as he'd agreed, "When?"

"This afternoon." _Better to get this done quickly_, Sandor had thought.

It hadn't been difficult to get the ginger-haired freshman alone.

The backdrop was different. Boy's locker room instead of behind a dumpster, different kid and different circumstances, but still a familiar scene.

The ginger kid had looked at him in fright, then at Joffrey, and had lost all color when he'd put two and two together.

"Please! Don't do this!"

"Shut the fuck up, kid." That was all the warning Sandor had given him before he'd grabbed the kid and pushed him against a bank of lockers.

He slammed hard against it, making Sandor wince. _Too hard. Hold back._

Joffrey had laughed. "That's what you get for thinking you and that Stark bitch could make a fool out of me!"

The kid tried to make a run for it, but Sandor yanked him back and drove a fist into his stomach, just hard enough to wind him. It took every ounce of control he had to keep his strength in check. If he didn't watch himself, the kid could wind up seriously damaged. The kid had fallen to the ground, and Sandor landed a kick to his thigh, flooring him completely. The kid howled in pain. Sandor closed himself to it, instead listening to Joffrey's reactions. _That's it, laugh you demented fuck!_

He'd put a huge hand to the kids head and pressed him into the floor, hard enough to mark his freckled cheek.

"Bet you're sorry now, huh?"Sandor had rasped. _Say you're sorry, you stupid kid!_

_ "I'm sorry!"_ The kid yelped.

Sandor lifted him up, then backhanded him across the face. The kid's lip split.

_There you go, Joff. Blood._

He had exaggerated his movements as he made a show of kicking and kneeing the kid, and it soon became apparent that the kid had clearly been expecting the blows to land harder. He'd eyed Sandor strangely, even through the obvious pain on his face.

_Think, kid! _Sandor had willed, driving the kid against the locker again. He tripped him to the floor, and held him down. The kid had had enough.

Sandor had leaned over, and made sure Joffrey wouldn't hear him.

"Make sure I _never _see you at this school again," Sandor said in a menacingly low growl, forcing the kid to meet his eyes. "If you come back here, you _and_ that Stark bitch will both get it. _Do you understand_?"

The ginger-kid's watery eyes had widened, and Sandor hoped it was because he truly understood what he meant, and he nodded once.

"It's better this way," Sandor had grumbled, then he'd stood up and gave the kid one final kick in the shin.

"Good work, dog!" Joffrey had smiled an awful smile as he'd looked at the bleeding boy on the floor.

"Let's get the fuck out of here." Sandor had fled the boy's locker room, eager to distance himself from what he'd just done.

The very next day, Tuesday, the Hound had been linked to the bleeding freshman on the Gossip Spyder's site. The ginger-kid hadn't been seen at school since. Joffrey had not seemed to notice, however, his taste for blood apparently appeased.

Arya Stark had stared daggers at him each time they crossed paths the entire week, and he'd glared right back. He wondered what she would do if she ever learned the truth.

Sansa was another matter. She looked at him with fright in her eyes again, and that caused him anger and an inexplicable ache in his chest. Maybe that was why he'd felt compelled to tell her that _things aren't always as they seem_.

He gave an uncharacteristic sigh. It was best that she didn't know the truth about what he'd done. She already knew one too many of his secrets.

"Clegane!"

There was a rap on his helmet as Coach Selmy slapped him around the head. He looked up at his stern faced coach.

"Coach?"

"Half-time's over…get back out there." Coach Selmy gave him a funny look.

It was the third quarter already, and he hadn't even noticed. He really was off his game. He got taken down a second time. The last quarter saw him go down for the third time that night, pinned down by the same offensive lineman who'd taken him down that first time.

There were shouts of disbelief all around him. For the Hound to be taken down once was lucky, twice was by divine intervention, but three times was unheard of.

From the sideline, he heard a feminine howling.

"Yeah, serves you right! Get him!" It was coming from the home bleachers, and he recognized the voice as belonging to Arya Stark.

"Someone shut that bitch up!" He growled when he was back on his feet.

No one did, or if they tried they weren't successful as Arya continued to heckle not only him, but Joffrey as well. The Braavos boys were brutal, and had clearly upped their game in preparation for the season. It was lucky then that the rest of Sandor's teammates were on top of _their_ game.

By some miracle, they won by two points.

"What the fuck's the matter with you tonight?" Joffrey demanded as they made their way to the change rooms after the game.

He shrugged, "Might be coming down with something."

Joff sniffed at that, the Hound never got sick. "Might be you just need to get laid!"

"Might be." He agreed.

In the locker room Coach Selmy had given him a talking to, concerned about his mental game, not his physical.

"Something on your mind, boy?"

"Nothing that won't be dealt with by the next game, Coach." He replied honestly.

The Hound never lied. If he had one redeeming quality, that was it.

Coach Selmy had given him one of his steely, see-right-into-your-soul kind of stares, before he merely nodded. "See that you do, Clegane."

There was a party at Trant's place that night, but he didn't feel like going. He just wanted to go home and get drunk where no one could see him wallow in whatever shit he seemed to be in.

He walked outside, intending to make a quiet getaway, and he thought he'd managed it as he traversed the dark hedge lined pathway down to the lot…when something small smacked right into his chest.

"Ow!" A girl yelped.

"Watchit!" He rasped, reaching out and finding slim shoulders under his fingers.

"You!"

"Fuck. It's the little sister." He growled, displeased.

Arya Stark stood there, glaring at him furiously.

* * *

**Arya**

Arya pulled away from the Hound's grasp and took a couple of steps back.

"Get the fuck away from me, asshole!" She hissed.

"In case you forgot, you ran into _me_." He leaned over her menacingly.

"I'm not afraid of you!" She glared up at him defiantly.

"Maybe you should be," He snarled. "Don't you know? You shouldn't get in my way."

"Or else what?" She demanded, "You'll beat me up like you did Mycah?"

"Who?"

"My _friend_!" She yelled up at him, "The one you beat up in the boy's locker room!"

"I don't remember beating up anyone called Mycah." Sandor sneered.

"You piece of shit!" Arya's voice rose a notch, "You can't even admit to it!"

"What exactly are you accusing me of, bitch?" He demanded gruffly, "And be careful what you say next."

His eyes narrowed, and his burned lip twitched. Arya could see his temper rising.

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." She began, "I'm talking about you beating up a freshman half your size, for something that had nothing to do with him, just because that prick Joffrey ordered you to do it!"

The Hound laughed, the sound of it harsh and grating to her ears, then he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her close, lowering his face down so that his eyes were level with hers. She was startled to find that his eyes were almost the same grey as her own.

Except his eyes were full of an anger she hadn't been prepared for.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, little bitch!" He snarled in that raspy voice of his, "And be careful of who might be listening before you go accusing Joffrey."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Oh, no," He laughed, "If I were threatening you, you'd know it."

"Really? Sounded like a threat to me."

He grasped both of her shoulders and shook her just hard enough to make her eyes go wide and round in her head.

"Go on. Keep pushing me, little bitch! I dare you."

Arya felt the strength in his fingers, and her heart beat faster.

"Let me go!" She hissed.

He let her go immediately, and Arya took another two steps further from him.

"You're a thug and I hate you! I wish you'd die and go to hell! I want to see you _dead_!"

He scowled, unimpressed. "Join the queue."

"...I'd like nothing better than to slit your throat!" He raised his remaining brow at that, "Then bash your ugly face to a pulp!"

"Stop trying to come up with ways to kill me. It won't do you any good."

Arya made to launch herself at him, but at that moment another pair of hands grasped her shoulders from behind her, preventing her from moving.

"You have more courage than sense, lovely girl." She recognized the voice immediately, but there was something hard in the husky tones she'd never heard before.

Surprised, she whipped her head around and found Jaqen H'ghar at her back. He was glaring at the Hound.

"Who the hell are you?" The Hound demanded.

"I am a friend of hers, and my name is not your concern." Jaqen replied, his voice low and laced with something dangerous, "I think that you should leave now."

The Hound's eyes had narrowed further still.

"You know him?" He asked Arya.

_Why the hell would he care about that? _Sandor Clegane looked unwilling to leave her alone with a strange boy. Surely, she was imagining it?

"He's a friend." She confirmed.

"Then the bitch is all yours," He said to Jaqen, before he turned back to Arya. "I'd stop asking questions now, if I were you. It's better this way." And without another word, Sandor Clegane turned on his heel and walked away.

_It's better this way._

The words jarred in Arya's mind.

"Hey, come back here!" She strained against Jaqen's grip. "I'm not done talking to you!"

"Let him go, Arya." Jaqen said.

"But…!"

"Your fight with him is over for today. Let it go."

Arya let out a shaky breath, reigning in her temper.

_It's better this way_. That was the last text message she received from Mycah, and now the Hound had repeated the same words to her. Clearly,_ obviously,_ he was hiding something and warning her not to go digging for answers.

After a moment, Arya turned questioning eyes to Jaqen. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to watch the game. My friends and I decided we would come at the last minute." He replied. "They are waiting for me at the car park."

She glanced at the darkened pathway behind him and figured he'd come from the bathrooms too. That's where she had been moments before she'd collided with the Hound.

"So, you really are a senior from Braavos Academy?" She forced her mind to focus on something other than Sandor Clegane.

Jaqen's presence was disorienting. He was wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt that pulled tight across his chest and shoulders, accentuating their breadth. She could smell him as well. She was coming to associate the smell of spices with Jaqen.

"That is correct," His hands had dropped to his sides the moment he felt her relax. "I had hoped to meet you earlier, but I did not have your number and I was not certain that you would be here tonight. It seems that Fate has decided I would come to find you when you needed me." He tilted his head and studied her face. "You are okay, now? After that?"

Arya nodded. Her arms were a little sore from where the Hound's fingers had gripped her, but she was otherwise unharmed.

"I guess you've heard the story going around…about that photo of me and Joffrey."

"I have heard a few versions, yes." He agreed, "What I haven't heard is the truth."

"How much did you see?" She asked, "Of what happened, just before?"

Jaqen shrugged, but it was clear that he was concerned. "Enough to know that you were about to do something you might come to regret. As I said before, you have more courage than sense."

"You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know me, Jaqen." Arya suddenly remembered what Gendry had said.

"I know enough to make me want to find out more, lovely girl." He replied, and he smiled at her gently.

"Oh," She said. She was beginning to understand.

She panicked. Her eyes must have spoken her uncertainty, because Jaqen was suddenly reaching out for her. Arya moved out of his reach.

"Arya…" He began softly, "Please, stay a moment longer."

"I have to go…my friends…Gendry's waiting for me."

He backed off. "Then I will say goodnight, Arya."

"Goodnight, Jaqen." She returned awkwardly. "Thanks for your help…with the Hound."

"I'm glad to help." He inclined his head. "I shall see you again, sweet girl, if Fate is kind."

She turned and fled, and by the time she reached Gendry and Hot Pie, she was flushed and breathing heavily.

"What's the matter with you?" Gendry asked, noting her pink cheeks.

"Nothing. I was just running."

There was no way she was going to tell them about the strange encounters she'd had that night. She was all mixed up inside, and her brain didn't know what emotion to feel.

Her encounter with the Hound had left her feeling angry and anxious about his parting comment, while the brief and unexpected run-in with Jaqen had her feeling embarrassed and tingly.

Then there was Gendry who kept watching her in concern as he stood there looking very cute with his dark brows furrowed, and his arms folded across his chest. It made her tummy feel funny.

At that moment, she understood exactly what it meant to be overwhelmed.


	6. Episode 6 A Question of Fate

**Hi everyone! This episode took longer to write and edit than I thought it would...sorry to keep you waiting! These 6000+ words installments are staggering to write! I think this one is closer to 8000 words!**

**Sansa finally auditions for a spot in the choir, and I've left notes and some YouTube links regarding the song I chose as her audition piece on my profile.**

**Arya's new look - There's a link on my profile of what I had in mind about her new hairstyle.**

**Thank you again to my readers and reviewers...my creative beast thrives on your support!**

* * *

**Episode 6**

"**A Question of Fate"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Hello again, my faithful followers!

I hear there's going to be a double celebration shortly, with both Sansa and Arya having their birthdays within days of each other. Just don't go expecting a party now, word on the grapevine is the sisters still aren't talking to each other…

Still on the Stark girls, has anyone noticed a difference with Arya Stark's appearance? In case the number of question marks I just used hasn't given you a clue, I'll spell it out and just say W.O.W…Arya Stark has definitely made it clear that she's all grown up!

In some school news, the auditions for our award winning school choir are being held this week, and I happened to take a look at the sign-up sheet and found Sansa Stark's name on the list. Good luck Sansa! Will Joffrey be coming to cheer you on? Auditions are being held in the auditorium later this week, for those of you who are as curious as I am…not that you'll see me, of course!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Gendry**

Gendry glanced at his watch and noted that Arya should have already arrived at school. She'd told him that her mother was taking her to the doctor for a check-up in the morning and that she wouldn't get to school until lunch.

She'd also told him and Hot Pie not to buy any food from the cafeteria as she'd be picking something up from outside on her way to school. He wished she would hurry up because he was starving, and Hot Pie would almost be ready to start gnawing the table he'd told him to reserve in the quad.

"Let me know when you get here." He sent her a text message.

"Just got here. At locker."Came her response a few moments later.

Gendry pivoted on his heel and headed back the way he'd come so that he could go and meet her, and also to see what she'd brought for lunch.

He turned the corner into the corridor where her locker was located and searched over the tops of peoples' heads to see if he could spot her familiar shape. He didn't see her, but there was a girl there standing at what looked to be the locker next to Arya's.

She was just the right height and shape to catch his attention. Gendry had a type. He liked petite, dark-haired girls.

All he could see was the back of this girl, and he appreciated her delicate frame and the gentle curves in the right places. She was wearing skintight jeans, flat biker boots, and a slim white tee under which he could see the outline of a blue tank. She had a leather cuff on one wrist, and the other hand clutched a Burger King bag. His eyes travelled further up, and noted that the girl had dark brown hair that reached just past her shoulders, the ends of which had been dip-dyed a shade of electric purple.

_Turn around,_ he thought, _I have to see your face._

He glanced at the number stenciled at the top of the locker, and it took him a moment to realize that the unknown girl was standing at Arya's locker.

The girl turned around, and Gendry's gasp was so sharp that he ended up coughing.

"_Arya?_" He managed to say.

Gendry couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Arya looked amazing. Like a little punk-rock pixie.

"Oh, get over it, Gendry." She rolled her eyes and slammed her locker shut. "So, I got some new clothes and a haircut. What's the big deal?"

_You look hot!_

"Sorry, you just surprised me." He said, "You look different."

She scowled at him.

"You look good!" He rushed to say, "I wasn't expecting that."

"You didn't expect that I'd clean up this well?"

"No...! I mean, yes!" He swore, aghast that she would think that. "I mean, you were always pretty!"

_Fuck! Why did I say that?_

Arya's face split into a wide grin. "I'm just messin' with ya!"

"Wha-!"

"You should see your face!" She laughed, then shoved the Burger King bag into his hands while she balanced a cardboard tray laden with drinks in her own. "Make yourself useful and hold that."

"You're so cruel, Arya…"

"And you're stupid," She looked up at him and he noticed that her smile had softened, and she wasn't quite meeting his eyes, "Stupid, but sweet…thanks for saying that I was always pretty."

She bounded ahead of him and shooed him out of the double doors given that his hands were now full. Gendry didn't reply. He didn't trust himself to say anything that wouldn't make things more awkward.

He'd meant what he'd said, but she'd thought he was just being polite. It was probably better that way, he reasoned. Just a few days previously she'd told him to stop acting like an annoying, overprotective brother, and he had realized, to his own surprise, that he did not want her to see him like a brother, just as he didn't see her as a sister.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now that he'd admitted he liked her. His experience with girls was limited to a few rather awkward dates that ended in more awkward and embarrassing fumbling when he'd attempted to kiss them. Arya was nothing like the girls he'd dated before, and that only added to his current bewilderment.

He'd never met anyone like her, and he found himself wondering what twists and quirks of fate must have occurred for him to have been given the chance to meet this most unusual girl.

He'd told her before that he had no idea who his father was, but he was smart enough to figure out that whoever his mother had slept with to conceive him was connected to a whole lot of money. He was also smart enough to understand that without his own connection to this money, he would never have set foot in King's Landing Prep, and he never would have met Arya Stark.

He observed as everyone turned to gape at the new-look Arya. Girl's gasped and whispered behind their hands, while guys nudged each other and made faces Gendry knew meant they liked what they saw.

He was probably wearing the same expression himself, he figured.

He even saw Sansa and her friends staring. Sansa's expression was hard to figure out, but he would bet that she was surprised at the reaction her little sister was getting.

Hot Pie looked to be one of the few guys in the place that was more impressed with the contents of the Burger King bag than by Arya's new look. Gendry liked the guy more for that.

Arya divvied out the burgers and fries, and Gendry found that he was unable to stop looking at her. He wondered what had prompted her to suddenly change her look. There was something different about her face as well, but he couldn't pin-point what it was, and he didn't think it was polite to ask her. His foster-mom had once said something about women and their beauty secrets, and that men should never ask.

"So, how did it go this morning with your doctor?" He asked instead.

"What?" Arya looked startled, then she looked away and shrugged. "Fine, just fine."

"Well, that's good." Gendry noticed she had a nice blush to her, "You look healthy."

She rolled her eyes.

"Arya, the Spyder says your birthday is coming up," Hot Pie changed the subject, "How are we celebrating?"

"Well, my birthday is on a Friday, so we can start by you bringing me a pie for lunch that day," She grinned. "Then we'll probably watch the football game that night, and if I get my way the _White Knights _will get the shit kicked out of them again, and maybe we'll finish off by grabbing burgers and thick shakes from that diner we went to the other day."

"I can do that," Hot Pie laughed, "What's your favorite kind?"

"Anything with berries in it," She grinned.

Hot Pie's family owned a successful franchise of specialty bakeries. He'd told them that his mom and grandmother had started off with one small bakery before he was born, but his mom had decided she would turn the business into a franchise when he was about six years old, and within a decade, _Mrs. Hot Pie_ had become a recognized brand, due in part to some clever tongue-in-cheek advertising, and a solid business plan, while Hot Pie's mother had become a self-made multi-millionairess.

Gendry laughed and shook his head. "Is that all? That sounds too simple."

"Well, it's true. I'm about as low maintenance as you can get, or so my brother Jon says." Arya sighed. "It would be perfect if Jon could be with us, but he said he wouldn't be able to come down until Saturday evening."

"So, your family has planned something to celebrate your birthday as well?"

"It's probably going to be some boring dinner again at some restaurant, and both Sansa and I will probably get similar presents like we do every year."

"When's Sansa's birthday?"

"The Sunday following my birthday." She said unhappily.

"Your birthdays are just a day apart?" Hot Pie exclaimed, "That sucks."

"Don't get me started."

"Well, how about we do something to celebrate your birthday, so it's just about you?" Gendry heard himself say. "I mean, _really_ celebrate, not just watching a high-school football game and eating at a diner afterwards."

She looked thoughtfully at him, "How do you celebrate _your_ birthday?"

"Me?" He hadn't been expecting that, and he didn't know how to tell her that he'd never had any money before to properly celebrate anything. In the end, he went and told her the honest answer. "Well, for the past six years since I've been living with the Motts, every year Mrs. Mott would cook a home-cooked meal, and bake a cake for me, or Mr. Mott would bring out the barbecue and I would have a few friends over and we'd eat ourselves stupid and drink too much fizzy drinks."

She was wearing a funny expression now, and he couldn't work it out. "What's a home-cooked meal taste like?"

"Huh?"

"My mother doesn't cook," She said dismissively, "My parents hire a chef. I guess I've never had a proper home-cooked meal in my entire life."

_How the other half live_, Gendry mused.

"Is that what you want?" He suddenly had an idea. He'd need to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Mott first, but he couldn't see why it would be a problem. "If you would like a home-cooked meal for your birthday, Arya Stark, I can make that happen."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" Her expression showed a kind of stunned, disbelief.

"Of course,"

"Thanks, Gendry. That sounds perfect!"

The smile that Arya gave him was so bright and dazzling that Gendry felt the force of it hit him square in the chest, right where his heart was.

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa was blushing to the roots of her hair as she stared at the nameplate on the doorway of the discreet looking clinic.

"Mother?" She turned towards Catelyn. "Why have you brought me here?"

Catelyn pursed her lips, "Because it's time for you to learn about how to protect yourself."

"But, I'm not…I'm still…" Sansa couldn't even bring herself to say it.

She wasn't sleeping with Joffrey. She wasn't anywhere near close to going there…but her boyfriend had hinted at it.

"That's good, and I should hope you stay that way until you're well and truly ready."

"Then why are we here?"

"Just in case your definition of _well and truly ready_ is different to mine," Catelyn replied. "Really Sansa, don't make this difficult."

In the end, Sansa had met with the efficient female doctor and listened as the doctor told her of various birth control options. She had then asked Sansa a number of incredibly personal questions and she had gone bright red upon hearing them. It was a good thing the doctor had asked her mother to step outside of the room during the visit, otherwise she would never have been able to answer her.

"Honestly, I'd expected Arya to give me more trouble. Not you." Catelyn muttered to herself as they filled her prescription at the drugstore after the appointment at the clinic.

"You've taken Arya to the clinic, too?" Sansa was shocked.

"Yes, earlier in the week. Didn't she tell you?"

"No, she didn't." Sansa didn't elaborate that she and Arya hadn't spoken in over a week.

She had been learning all sorts of things about Arya recently, and all of it had come as second-hand knowledge. For instance, she'd had no idea that Arya was planning on going and changing her entire look. Or that she might be seeing a senior from another school, or that Arya now more than likely had the same prescription for oral contraceptive pills.

Her mind reeled at the thought ofArya dating, being on the pill and possibly losing her virginity before she did. Never mind the senior from Braavos Academy, Sansa had noticed the way Gendry Waters had been looking at Arya lately.

Her sister had gone from annoying little girl to tough, punk-rock princess in the blink of an eye and she'd missed it. That made her kind of sad, she realized.

She knew of other girls who were best friends with their sisters, and she'd always wondered what it would be like to have that kind of relationship with Arya. They'd never really had anything in common. They had different styles, and because Sansa was taller and bustier, they didn't share clothes or shoes. They didn't like the same music, or watch the same shows, and meal times at home had always been a problem for their chef as they didn't even like the same kinds of food.

They shared parents and siblings and DNA, and not much else. _You can't choose your family, _she thought, _fate does that for you._

Yet there had been times in their childhood, times when they weren't arguing with each other and they got along for long enough moments to talk about the things that mattered. There had been times when they had sought comfort from each other, like when their parents had arguments about Jon and the woman who had been Jon's mother and they had been too young to understand what it meant.

On occasion, Sansa had even been the big sister she was supposed to be. Like the day Arya had got her first period, and their mother had not been at home to help her deal with it. Sansa remembered that day, almost two years previously, when Arya had let out an uncharacteristic scream from her bedroom in Winterfell Manor one Saturday morning. Jon and Robb had come running almost immediately, but Arya had yelled at them to go away.

"Let me in, Arya." Jon had rapped on her bedroom door, "What's wrong? Why did you scream?"

"Go away, Jon!" Had been her muffled response. "I want Mom. Where's Mom?"

"She and father are attending some breakfast conference and left earlier." Robb had replied, "Open the door so we can help you."

There'd been a pause, and then Arya had called out in a shaky voice, "You can't help me."

That was when Sansa had realized what the problem was, and she'd calmly pushed her brothers aside and spoke softly as she knew that her sister was probably right up against her door on the other side.

"I get it, Arya." She'd said. "Let me in."

"Sansa!" Arya's voice had been full of relief, and the door had opened just wide enough to drag her inside.

Patiently and without any teasing, Sansa talked Arya through the things Arya should have known about periods but had forgotten in her panic, and answered her questions, before helping her deal with her bloodied sheets. Sansa had even dealt with their curious brothers who still hadn't caught on to what was happening, and later in the day when Theon, Bran and Rickon had asked about Arya's screaming, she'd been tactful and mindful of her sister's embarrassment and had merely said, "She's a lady now, that's all you need to know."

A then five-year-old Rickon had thought this was some kind of achievement that deserved a hug, and he'd gone and given Arya a cuddle.

Arya had also never had any female friends, so Sansa assumed she would be the one person Arya would speak to about boys. Not that she would have been much help, she was only a year older, and only slightly more experienced, but at least they might have shared confidences and sought each other's advice the way other sisters did.

But Sansa was dating Joffrey Baratheon, and Arya hated her boyfriend. They would never see eye-to-eye as long as she was with Joffrey.

Sansa thought of the box of pills that was now buried deep in the tote bag she used for school, and thought of Joffrey. She'd been very upfront with him about being a virgin, particularly after that first time they'd made out in the back of his car and he'd gotten way too carried away and she'd had to pull away from him in panic.

He'd been trying to get his hand down her underpants, and she just wasn't ready for him to do that. He'd seemed a little put off, just for a split second, then he'd turned charming again the next second.

"Of course I can be patient," He'd said and smiled at her, "The wait will be worth it."

She'd smiled at him, relieved that he wasn't mad or too disappointed, and let him keep kissing her. She wondered how he would react if he knew she now had a script for the pill.

_Nope, not yet._ She decided, she wasn't ready even to consider where that conversation with Joffrey would go. She needed to speak to another girl about this, and the most likely girl in her new group of friends who would have the answers seemed to be Randa.

Randa was a senior and had been dating a college guy on and off for some months. She'd also made no secret that the reason she kept taking him back was because the guy was awesome in the bedroom. Mya, also a senior, was currently dating another senior on the varsity team called Lothor Brune. She and Randa often swapped stories between themselves in hushed tones punctuated with lots of giggling. By far however, Randa was the most sexually educated of the two. If anyone could answer Sansa's questions about sex without getting all textbook or clinical on her, then it would be Myranda Royce.

She now just had to figure out how to broach the subject with the older girl, without going bright red in the face.

The car ride back to school allowed her to regain her composure, and Sansa pushed all thought of the little box of pills from her mind to concentrate on the choir audition she had that afternoon. She'd been practicing the song she had chosen every day for the past fortnight in preparation. She'd even gone to the extreme of recording her own voice using a basic recording program on her computer that Jeyne had told her about and playing it back so that she could listen and work on the parts she found weak.

She'd converted it to MP3 format and loaded it to her iPod so she could hum it and practice even while she was on the go.

There were thirty places on the choir, fifteen of which had already been filled by junior and senior students who'd been in the choir the previous year. The remaining places up for grabs would be decided on merit, and open to all students in any grade.

"You've been practicing non-stop, Sansa." Catelyn said as she pulled up in front of the school gate. "You really want this, don't you?"

"I do, mother." Sansa replied earnestly. "I didn't realize before, but this is important to me."

Catelyn gave her an encouraging smile. "You'll do fine, sweetheart. Good luck."

* * *

**Sandor**

"Where the hell is she?" Joffrey looked around the quad, expecting Sansa to be waiting for him as she had started to do.

"I don't think she's here yet," Sandor replied. "She said something about a doctor's appointment."

"I didn't know that."

"She told you," Sandor said, sounding exasperated. "I was there, that's how I know."

"Is she sick? I didn't notice."

"She's your girlfriend. How should I know?"

"Girlfriend," Joffrey scoffed at the word. "Just until she puts out, and just until I get tired of her."

"Wanna say that any louder?" Sandor looked around them. "If that fucking Spyder hears you say that and blabs about it on the website, you can forget about getting it on with the redhead."

"Fucking Spyder…If I ever find out who it is, I'll kick his teeth in!" Joffrey spat, but his temper quickly waned as his attention was diverted by a group of cheerleaders heading their way.

"I heard Ros is into you." Joff nudged him.

"Which one's she?" Sandor asked, not really interested. "Doesn't matter, she must be fucking blind!"

"That's Ros," Joffrey laughed, "With the big tits!"

Sandor noted the busty cheerleader with the dark-red hair, who looked away when she saw him staring. He sneered, unimpressed.

"When was the last time you got laid?" Joff was smirking. "Ros will put out, she looks the type."

"It's been a while," He admitted, "But I'm not desperate enough to fuck a girl who's probably been with half the team."

"You've banged sluts before,"

"I meant with half of the _White Knights._"

"Suit yourself," Joffrey shrugged. "Hey, did I tell you that Sansa's a virgin?"

Both of Sandor's hands clenched into fists at the words that confirmed what he'd already suspected.

"No, you didn't."

"Well, she is,"

"What does that mean for you?"

"Means I've got to take it slow, doesn't it?" Joff said, annoyed. "My mother said that I should be nice to her. Well, nicer than I am to other girls, anyway!" Joff sniggered. "What mother doesn't know won't hurt her."

Sandor chose not to comment. He had a distinct feeling that Cersei Lannister-Baratheon knew exactly what kind of man her son was. Joffrey did not know the meaning of the word 'faithful', and if Sansa was not going to be putting out immediately, then Joff would get what he wanted somewhere else.

Sansa Stark chose that moment to arrive, and Sandor watched as she approached their group's table. She was wearing a short, sleeveless, white cotton dress and tan colored sandals on her feet. In flat shoes, the top of her head barely grazed his chin. She'd pulled her hair into a low ponytail to one side of her head, and its auburn lengths draped over one creamy shoulder.

He had the sudden urge to rip the elastic out of her hair, so he fidgeted with his iPod to keep his fingers occupied. He preferred her hair loose and tumbling down her back, like the way she had been wearing it when he'd first met her.

"Hey, babe," Joffrey kissed her in greeting, "Everything go okay with the doctor?"

"Oh, yes. Everything's fine." Sansa replied, looking surprised that Joffrey had asked.

Sandor suddenly regretted telling him about her appointment, because now he'd made Joffrey seem like a caring boyfriend.

"Hey, Sansa," Jeyne called to her from the other end of the table. "Are you ready for this afternoon?"

Sansa smiled back nervously. "As ready as I can be."

"We'll all be coming to watch," Randa smiled at her, "And cheer you both on!"

"What's happening this afternoon?" Joffrey asked.

"Oh, Jeyne and I have auditions for the choir today." Sansa replied.

"The choir? Really?"Joffrey looked like he wanted to laugh, and was barely keeping it in. "I didn't know you could sing."

Sansa shrugged. "I don't know if I'll make it in."

"Of course we'll be there," Joffrey nudged Sandor, "Won't we, Hound?"

_You leave me out of this. I have better things to do. _Sandor thought.

"Sure," Was what he actually said.

Later that afternoon, after classes had ended for the day, Sandor found himself loitering around the auditorium entrance as he waited for the rest of the guys to turn up. Sansa had looked nervous when she'd learned all of them would be turning up to watch her and Jeyne sing, and he almost felt nervous for her.

He figured she would have to get a grip on her nervousness. She was planning on joining the choir and that meant having to perform in front of a crowd. She could start with singing in front of her friends.

_Is that what I am, a friend?_

He doubted that she considered him as such.

Her friend Jeyne was still giving her encouragement when he saw them approaching. Sansa saw him, looked around expecting to see Joffrey with him and looked perplexed when she realized he was the first one there.

"Um…Could you just let Joff and the others know that we've gone inside?" She asked him.

"Yeah, okay." He nodded.

"Thank you," She offered him a smile, before she followed Jeyne into the auditorium.

Sandor felt he should have wished them both good luck, but the words never made it past his scarred lips. It didn't seem natural.

When Joffrey, Trant, Blount and the cheerleaders Randa, Mya, Ros and the dark one known as Yaya turned up, he passed on the message and he silently filed in after them into the rapidly filling auditorium. He knew the choir had won awards in years past, but he didn't think it was this popular. It seemed that the Spyder's post had attracted a lot of attention to the auditions. Sansa was going to have a larger audience than she may have wanted.

The school's Musical Director, Mr. Bard, announced that those auditioning were to be called up by surname, in alphabetical order, and each would simply sing until they were told to stop. Sandor had groaned when he'd heard that. Sansa would be among the last to audition.

There were roughly fifty students who'd come to audition, and almost half of them had been asked to stop singing within the first twenty seconds of opening their mouths. Sandor had laughed along with everyone else at the particularly bad singers. He had no pity for delusional fools.

Sansa's friend, Jeyne Poole, was then called to the stage, and he did pay attention to her. He had nothing against Jeyne. She was nice, and didn't seem to have any hidden agenda where her friendship with Sansa was concerned.

She sang a song from a musical, something about trying to defy gravity. She had a strong voice, and though Mr. Bard had asked her to stop singing after the first chorus, there had been a smile on the man's face, and Jeyne looked happy with her performance.

At long last, Sansa's name was finally called, and she walked to the stage amid clapping and cheering from her personal cheer squad led by Randa and Mya. Sansa looked confident under the spotlight, and beautiful.

"What are you singing for us today, Miss Stark?" Mr. Bard asked when he'd shushed the crowd.

Sansa held the microphone to her lips. "I'll be singing _Angel_, by Sarah Mclachlan."

"Very well. Whenever you're ready."

Sansa took a moment to compose herself, and then she cued some unseen audio guy. The sound of a piano filled the air.

Suddenly, Sandor found himself tensing up. He was anxious, he realized. He'd never thought to find out if the little bird could actually chirp prettily for real. It hadn't occurred to him that she might end up humiliated. He didn't want that for her.

_Any of these assholes laugh, they're dead._

And then Sansa opened her mouth.

"_Spend all your time waitin', for that second chance. For a break that would make it okay…"_

The skin on his arms and back of his neck prickled, and Sandor found that he was sitting up in his seat.

"…_There's always some reason to feel not good enough, and it's hard at the end of the day. I need some distraction, oh beautiful release. Memories seep from my veins…"_

Her voice was beautiful. How could he have ever thought it would be otherwise?

"…_They may be empty and weightless and maybe, I'll find some peace tonight…"_

The entire auditorium had grown silent as Sansa's achingly haunting tones filled the room. Sandor had stopped breathing.

"…_In the arms of the Angel, fly away from here…From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear…"_

There was a tightness in his chest he hadn't felt in a while. He didn't know if it was the song itself, or if it was Sansa's voice, but there were suddenly memories coming to him that he hadn't thought about in a very long time. Memories from the worst time of his life.

"…_You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. You're in the arms of the Angel, may you find some comfort here…"  
_He was staring right at her, and though he was certain she couldn't see him, why did it feel like she was looking right back at him, and singing _for him_?

She kept on singing, well into the second verse now, and Sandor hoped that the Musical Director wouldn't call a stop. He desperately wanted Sansa to finish the song. _He needed her to finish the song._

He'd never expected he could react like this to a song. He'd never felt anything like it. His throat felt raw, and there was a pricking at the back of his eyelids. That shocked him, and he felt like he'd been punched in the guts.

_Hell, no!_ He thought. _I am not fucking tearing up._

So he momentarily closed his eyes, and let the rest of Sansa's song wash over him as he got a grip on himself. However, closing his eyes had made the memories appear clearer in his mind.

He was six years old again, and he was wearing black. His face had still been whole and unmarred. They were burying his mother, and Leonor, his three-year-old sister.

And then he remembered.

The same song had been playing as his mother's casket, and Leonor's much tinier casket had been lowered into the ground. It was the same day that his father had stopped caring about his two living sons.

Months later, Gregor had pushed his face into the fire.

Sandor reopened his eyes as Sansa's song came to an end. There was a moment of absolute silence…before the entire auditorium broke out in thundering applause. Sandor didn't move a muscle, he couldn't even if he'd wanted to. The cheerleaders were jumping out of their seats, and even Joffrey was hollering enthusiastically. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't do so without attracting attention to himself. He forced himself to get his shit together.

Luckily, there were only two other students to audition after Sansa, and they barely lasted twenty seconds on the stage before Mr. Bard had told them to stop. The auditions were finally over, and Mr. Bard announced that the list of those who'd earned a place would be posted up on the performing arts notice board the next day.

Afterwards, he fought the urge to run down the dawdlers who took their time exiting the building. He would have made a faster escape, if it hadn't been for Joff, who for some unfathomable reason insisted that he stay to congratulate Sansa.

"You don't even know if she made it in." He pointed out, annoyed.

"Are you kidding? Didn't you hear her in there?" Joff asked, behaving uncharacteristically like a real caring and supporting boyfriend.

"That's got to have been the most painful two hours of my life!" Sandor snarled, before he turned around fully intending to stalk away…and promptly collided into Sansa.

She yelped at the force of the impact. He'd barely moved, but his sheer bulk and unchecked strength saw that his car keys, cell phone and iPod were knocked out of his hands, while she dropped everything she'd been holding and lost her balance.

Only Sandor's quick reflexes saved her from sprawling face first into the concrete floor. He'd managed to slip his arm around her waist and drag her against his side tightly.

"Damn it!" He growled.

Sansa looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since the night he'd forced her to look him in the face. She looked hurt, and he knew that she'd been right behind him when he'd made that comment about the most painful two hours of his life. Yes, listening to her song had been painful for him…but not in the way she was probably thinking. _Well, fuck if I'm going to apologize in front of all these people._

Sandor let her go abruptly, then bent down and started picking up belongings.

"Stick to quarterbacks, Hound," Blount laughed, "And don't bruise up the women!"

Sandor wanted to kick the guy's head in for that comment.

"Are you okay, Sansa?" Jeyne rushed to her, and Joffrey was finally spurred into taking interest in his girlfriend and not just laughing at Blount's off-color joke.

"I'm fine," Sansa replied, clearly not fine.

There were two identical iPod's on the floor, as well as a jumble of lipglosses, pens, a small cardboard box that looked like medication of some kind – he frowned as he read and memorized the name on the box, was Sansa sick? – putting it from his mind, Sandor picked up the closest iPod to his car keys and cell phone and stood back up, not bothering to help Jeyne who was stuffing items back into Sansa's bag.

Only Sansa watched him leave.

It was a relief to get inside his Mustang. He plugged his iPod into the USB adaptor on his stereo, hoping to drown out his thoughts with the hard rock and metal he normally preferred, but began swearing anew when the song list that showed up on his display (Adele, Sara Bareilles, Sarah Mclachlan, Rosie Thomas, Laura Marling, Soley) told him that he'd picked up the wrong iPod.

Fate was a bitch with a warped sense of humor, Sandor thought darkly.

* * *

**Arya**

Unnoticed, way up in the nosebleed section of the auditorium, Arya, Gendry and Hot Pie exited the building from a little used doorway and made their way to the student lot.

"Did you know your sister could sing like that?" Gendry asked her.

Reluctantly, Arya nodded. "It's probably the only other real talent Sansa has."

"What's her other talent?" Hot Pie asked.

"Needlepoint," Arya screwed up her nose, "Like, cross-stitch and embroidery."

Gendry and Hot Pie laughed, "You're joking, right?"

"Sadly, no." Arya had known from the second her sister had opened her mouth that Sansa had secured herself a spot in the choir.

Sansa had been blessed with too many gifts, she felt. Her sister had beauty, charm, poise, elegance, a decent amount of book-smarts, a magical singing voice, and even the ability to sew neat stitches. Growing up being compared to her sister time and time again meant that she never forgot her own shortcomings.

Speaking of shortcomings, being short was the first on that list. If ever there was anyone who understood the little-dog complex, it was her. Being the smallest in her family, not counting Rickon (though she figured he'd be bigger than her too in a few years), she often had to speak louder and try harder than anyone else to get some recognition or attention. Even twelve year old Bran was now taller than her, and getting broader.

Jon was the eldest and resembled their father the most, as well as inheriting a lot of his mannerisms and traits. Robb was barely a year younger than Jon, and though he looked more like their mother, he and Jon were very similar in personality. Both of them had also inherited their father's intellect and had excelled at school.

Sansa was Sansa. Bran was a gifted student, and often seemed a lot older than his years, and Rickon being the baby of the family, usually got spoilt rotten.

_Suffer from middle-child syndrome, much?_

Having so many brilliant siblings, it was often easy to slip under the radar. Unless she was getting into some kind of trouble, she was mostly left alone to do her own thing.

"Can you drop me off at Harrenhal Mall?" Arya asked Gendry.

"You're not going home, yet?"

"It's only five, it's still early."

"What do you want to do at the mall?"

"What do girls do at the mall, stupid?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm going shopping."

After going through the contents of her closet over the weekend, and having already worn most of the new clothes she'd bought from the boutique at Trident's Bend, she'd realized very quickly that she needed way more clothes that was in keeping with the new look she'd adopted.

Hot Pie bade them goodnight and went to his own car, and Arya let herself into Gendry's car.

"I can drop you off, it's on my way to Beric's." Gendry told her as he backed his car out. "How will you get home?"

"I'll take a taxi or have my father's driver pick me up."

"I can pick you up when I'm done at Beric's, if you want a ride home." He offered.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. I don't want you to rush."

"All right, but call me if your first two options don't work out."

"Okay, I will." She smiled at him, touched by his concern.

Gendry took the exit to get onto the Kingsroad Expressway, and within minutes they were on their way to the largest mall in the state.

He'd gotten over his initial shock at her new appearance, and she noticed almost immediately that he seemed to stop treating her like a kid sister. He still showed some overprotective tendencies, like wanting to make sure she had a way to get home, for example, but there were subtle changes in the way he acted and spoke to her.

_Amazing what tighter clothes and purple hair can do._ She thought. Her plan had definitely worked. She'd been getting stared at by boys for the best part of the week.

Her own mother too had apparently decided she was grown up and getting enough attention from boys that she'd taken her to that doctor, who'd spoken to her about contraceptives and safe sex. Arya had actually believed she was just going to an ordinary doctor for an ordinary check-up.

Her mother had not even hinted at it during the entire car ride to the clinic, and Arya had been completely blind-sided. Rendered speechless, in fact.

She'd never even kissed a boy, and sex to her was a destination that was far, far away...light years away.

"You're awfully quiet, Arya," Her mother had said.

"I'm surprised, that's all." She'd said. "I don't even have a boyfriend, so why now?"

Catelyn Stark had given her youngest daughter a look that Arya had never seen, and when she'd replied to her, it was in a tone her mother used when she was talking to grown-ups.

"You've changed so much in just a matter of weeks, Arya. First you're making friends with older boys, and now you've gone and changed your hair, your clothes and you've even gone and had your eyebrows waxed, for Christ's sake! You're headstrong, and you never listen to a word I say –"

"But, mother..." Arya had begun to defend herself.

"No, Arya. Hear me out," Her mother had interrupted her, "You're growing up faster than I can keep up with, and it's because you are so headstrong that I took you to the clinic today. You're going to make up your own mind, regardless of what I or your father say to you, and all I want to do is make sure that you are _safe _when you decide that you're ready."

They hadn't spoken about it since, and the box of pills had sat in her dresser drawer unopened, still in the brown paper bag it had come in when they'd collected it from the drugstore.

Harrenhal Mall loomed large ahead of them. The biggest mall in the South boasted five separate tower complexes, each complex housing a different specialty. She told Gendry to drop her off at Tower 2, which housed mainly women's specialty stores.

"Hey, I've spoken to my foster-parents," Gendry said as he pulled into the drop-off zone and engaged the hand-brake, "How's next Thursday night for dinner suit you?"

"Next, Thursday?"

"You know? Your home-cooked birthday dinner?"

"You were serious?" Arya exclaimed, "That's fantastic! Oh, my God! Thank you!"

Spontaneously, like everything she did, she reached over the gears and threw her arms around his neck, giving him an enthusiastic hug. She let him go shortly, but not before she had noticed how warm he was, or that he smelled nice.

"Um...you're welcome," He said, slightly pink in the cheeks.

Arya let herself out of the car and gave him another smile before she shut the door.

"Thanks again for the ride, Gendry. See you at school tomorrow."

She waved as he drove away, then turned and headed inside the mall, where she proceeded to try and break the record that the sales girl in the boutique at Trident's Bend had set. She walked into a likely looking store and approached the girl at the counter.

"I have a credit card," She said to her, "How much damage do you think I could do in fifteen minutes?"

Quite a bit, as it turned out, and three other stores later, she figured she'd done enough damage to attract her father's attention. Their parents had given both herself and Sansa a credit card with set limits, and Arya had never come close to her limit before. Until recently.

She glanced at her watch and called her mother to send the car down for her, then found a juice bar where she waited for her ride home.

* * *

**Jaqen**

Jaqen walked into his favorite tapioca pearl and juice bar and ordered himself a large watermelon frappe, and waited for the girl behind the counter to fix his drink.

If he hadn't then heard the sharp intake of breath, he might have not seen her altogether. But he had, and so he lifted his head towards the dimly lit side of the room.

His mouth formed a half smile.

A markedly changed, slightly older looking version of Arya Stark sat in a booth by herself, holding a magazine and nursing what looked like an iced tea. There were shopping bags on the floor at her feet and on the seat beside her.

His immediate reaction was to go to her, but he hesitated. The last time he had seen her, she'd rebuffed him. Not that he felt he'd come on strong at all.

He hesitated also, because he knew that she was only a freshman, about to turn fourteen according to her. Normally, he wouldn't have looked twice at girls her age, and he still wasn't quite sure why she had a pull on him.

But Fate had seen to it that he was the one to catch her that day at the audition, and that it was into his lap that she had fallen. Then she had looked up at him with those beautiful grey doe-eyes of hers, and he'd called her a lovely girl.

He'd never used those words to describe a girl before, but she was lovely, more so now that she had colored her hair and wore tighter-fitting clothes. She looked tougher, and even sweeter for the effort.

_Sweet, lovely girl._

He didn't believe in coincidences, or luck, but he did believe in Fate. If Fate was a God, she was the only one he believed in. He was meant to meet this girl, and he was going to find out why.

"Here you are," The girl at the counter handed him his frappe.

"Thanks," He smiled at her, then purposely strode to Arya's booth.

Her eyes never left him the entire time, and she glanced up at him uncertainly when he stopped in front of her.

"We meet again, lovely girl. Fate has been kind." He gave her another half-smile. "May I join you?"

She nodded.

"How are you, Jaqen?" She asked as he slid into the booth across the table from her.

"A man has never felt better." He replied, and allowed his eyes to roam over her face.

She wasn't wearing makeup, but there was something different about her, in the set of her mouth and the tilt of her chin. Confidence, perhaps? Or bravado?

"A little girl becomes a young woman." He said in a low whisper, not sure if he was saying it for his benefit or hers.

"I wasn't a little girl," She returned. "Not when you met me."

"And I was always aware," He came back, "Though, you mistook my meaning."

"What was your meaning, then?"

"Just that you are young and inexperienced," He frowned slightly. "But I do not see you as a child."

"No?"

"No, I don't." He repeated. "Do you believe in Fate, Arya?"

"You mean, like destiny? I don't know…why?"

He tilted his head and fixed her with a look he hoped would show her that he was serious.

"Fate has brought us together on three occasions before today, and three times you've fled from me." Jaqen said. "Three chances Fate has given, and three times you have denied her. Now, you must pay them back."

The expression in her eyes clearly showed that she didn't understand what he was alluding to. _Young, and inexperienced._ He reminded himself.

"I don't believe in coincidences, Arya. We were destined to meet." Jaqen smiled at her. "I ask that you allow me to take you on three dates."

"Three, _what_?"

"Three dates." He said again. "No more, no less. For the three times you denied Fate when she was kind enough to bring us together."

"You're asking me out." Arya stated, and her expressive doe-eyes couldn't hide her shock.

"Yes, I am. Although you do not need to give me your answer right away."

Jaqen decided that he would leave it in her hands. He had been honest with her, and made it very clear what he wanted. Now it was up to her. Arya had sat back in her seat, and he found the way she was suddenly chewing on her bottom lip adorable.

"I will not push you, lovely girl." He said softly, sensing the same uncertainty around her that he'd felt the last time they'd met. "If you do not want to accept, then tell me, and I shall not bother you anymore."

She looked at him, and he met her eyes, trying to figure out what was going through her mind. She was measuring him up, for certain, and fighting some kind of internal battle at the same time. She watched him for the longest time, and Jaqen wondered how it was that the stare of this one girl could unsettle him so, when he'd been bothered less by the many eyes of the crowd that came to his performances.

"Three dates," She repeated.

"As I have said," He confirmed. "Say yes, and I will do the rest."

"I don't need to decide right now, you said. Give me your phone number, Jaqen." Arya slid her phone across the table, and watched as he keyed his number in. He slid the phone back to her.

She finally gifted him with a smile, showing little pointy teeth.

"_Your_ fate is now in my hands."


	7. Episode 7 Birthday Girls Part I

**Hi everyone! This is a special 'Double Episode' – it was just such a mammoth chapter and I had to split up the parts. I hope you like it!**

**Jon Stark makes a cameo appearance – yes he is a Stark. Illegitimate kids aren't named after where they're born in this world.**

**Allyria Dayne makes her debut in this episode – I took liberties with her appearance, I haven't been able to find a description of her anywhere.**

**Special mention at the end of this ep! Thank you once again to those that reviewed, and for continuing to be patient between updates!**

* * *

**Episode 7**

"**Birthday Girls"**

**Part I**

**Gossip Spyder**

Rise and shine, peeps!

It's a glorious day here in King's Landing, and the new day brings with it new gossip...my specialty!

It looks like Sansa Stark has well and truly immersed herself into the choir culture. As you may already know, she and her friend Jeyne Poole both scored spots in the choir, and rehearsals have begun for the annual Blue Rose Song Festival that will be held later in the year – remember to check out the clip of Sansa's audition if you haven't done so already.

Now…juicy goss…you may recall in an earlier post about Arya Stark being seen with a senior from Braavos Academy. I can now reveal that this senior is in fact Jaqen H'ghar, a local celebrity among hipsters. Arya and Jaqen were seen getting cosy in a booth at a juice bar in Harrenhal Mall recently. You may have heard his band _The Faceless Men_ performing at hipster club 'House of Black & White'…check out the links to their most recent gigs…these guys are _hot_!

Arya Stark, what does your boy-slash-friend, Gendry 'The Bull' Waters, think of you getting acquainted with the competition? The first heats of _Battle of The Bands_ are three weeks away! Can't wait!

And lastly…Sansa and Arya, I want to wish you both a very happy birthday!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Eddard**

Ned tore open the plain white A4 envelope that Jory Cassel had left on his desk.

"Someone left this for you," Jory had said. "They didn't leave a name."

The contents spilled out onto the leather-topped desk in his office at Stark Industries, and the first thing that caught his eye was a photograph amid the sheaf of papers.

"Robert?" He frowned as he picked it up.

His frown deepened when he inspected the picture closer and saw that the handsome boy in the photograph was a teenager, wearing the current style teenagers wore, and holding a cell phone to his ear. This was not Robert Baratheon.

The boy in the photo, however, was the spitting image of a younger Robert, as Ned remembered him from back in their boarding school days at Eyrie Boys Academy.

Gooseflesh trailed up his arms as he quickly examined the other documents in front of him. Copies of the boy's birth certificate, the death certificate of the boy's mother, academic transcripts, documents from social services detailing the boy's welfare and names of foster families he'd stayed with.

The documents looked familiar. In fact, Jory had given him a set just like it the week prior. Ned picked up the birth certificate and read the boy's name to be Waters.

He called Jory back into his office.

"This is about that boy I asked you to look into," Ned told him when the man appeared. "Take a look."

Jory inspected the documents in front of him. The social services documents and the mother's death certificate were the same as the ones he'd supplied Ned a week before, but it was the birth certificate that made his eyes go wide. The name of the boy's father had been supplied in this version. The copy he had given to Ned had left that space blank. He looked back up at Ned.

"Is this true?"

"Take a look at the boy's photo, and you tell me." Ned handed it to him.

The resemblance was uncanny.

"He could be Renly Baratheon's twin." Jory said with an uncertain laugh.

"Do you have any idea who left this envelope?"

"No. Reception found it this morning with the rest of the day's mail."

"Someone knows I've been asking questions about this boy." Ned rubbed a hand over his face. "Someone knows that Gendry Waters is the illegitimate son of Robert Baratheon."

"Robert told you nothing about him?" Jory asked. "Assuming Robert knows about the boy, that is."

"If Robert is aware of the boy's existence, he's made no mention of him to me." Ned replied.

He knew that Robert was a serial womanizer. He'd seen the man in action back when they were still in their prime. For all he knew, Robert could have dozens of illegitimate children all over the country.

There was something about the Waters boy that was different, however. He could sense it.

"Do you think Robert is the benefactor?" Jory wondered.

It made sense. Gendry Waters had been left a fortune that wasn't to be sniffed at, as well as the opportunity to study at the same school that Robert's legitimate children attended. Gendry and Joffrey would be in the same year.

That thought made him pause. Gendry and Joffrey looked nothing alike. Gendry looked nothing like any of Robert's children.

All of the Baratheon men – Robert, his brothers Stannis and Renly, all had the same inky black hair and dark blue eyes. He recalled seeing portraits of long dead Baratheons on the walls of the Baratheon's ancestral home, all of whom had black hair and blue eyes.

Ned's palms began to sweat at the sudden realization, but nothing else gave him away on the outside.

_Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are not Robert's children._

A DNA test would prove it, but Ned didn't need any more convincing. If Robert had somehow stumbled across this knowledge, then Ned would consider it reason enough for Robert to seek out his own natural children.

To acknowledge the boy in public would be unthinkable, however. The scandal and the number of questions it would raise would be too many, and potentially damaging not just to Robert's family – the Lannisters would have heads rolling! –but may have repercussions for Baratheon Incorporated as well.

And the boy – the media would rip the boy's life apart. The kid's life had just been so recently changed with his new wealth. Ned had seen from the boy's academic transcripts that he had a fair mind on him, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the boy had made a few educated deductions of his own about his paternity.

Perhaps it would be best that Gendry Waters remain unaware of his father's identity,

"He may well be, but the boy is his business." Ned passed a hand over his face again. "Robert has his reasons for keeping the boy a secret, so none of this must leave the room. See that these documents are destroyed, would you? It's bad enough that someone knows we were asking questions."

"This could be a disaster if this ever got into the wrong hands."Jory acknowledged. "Why would this person want you to know the truth?"

"I don't know…but I think it's time I got to know my daughter's friends." Ned decided. "Arya's having dinner with this boy and his foster-family this Thursday."

"Arya's started dating?" Jory had been in the Stark family's employ since Arya was in grade school, and was regarded like an uncle by the Stark children.

Ned gave him a beleaguered sort of smile, "I'm not sure. I think this boy might just be a friend…but she's blossomed recently…changed completely, actually."

"You have no idea what's going on inside her head, do you?" Jory called it as he saw it.

"I haven't the faintest idea, Jory." Ned finally admitted. "That's always been the case with Arya. Sansa's easier to figure out, she's an open book…but Arya, she's always kept me guessing."

Ned was unsettled to realize that unless he did something about it now, he would always be guessing, and he would never really know his daughter.

"I have an idea," He said to Jory, and he picked up the phone on his desk.

He dialed a number and waited for the line to be picked up.

"Hello, father," Came the deep timbre of his son's voice.

"Jon," Ned smiled into the phone, "Is there any chance that you boys can get down here earlier this week?"

* * *

**Sandor**

Sandor patted his jacket pocket to make sure that Sansa's iPod was still there. He'd meant to give it back to her right away, but it had been almost a week since the audition, and he had yet to return it. Stranger still, Sansa hadn't sought him out about the return of his iPod, either.

After the audition, he'd reached home and had dumped the iPod on his desk, then promptly forgot about it until the weekend when he'd sat down to get some homework done. He'd then plugged the mp3 player into his computer and scrolled through the playlist, curious to see what kind of music Sansa Stark was into.

She listened to a lot of chicks playing pianos and guitars, and angst-ridden groups as well as some pop and Top-40 kind of music.

He'd found her voice on it too. She'd recorded herself singing _Angel_, and he'd been listening to it every day since. _Give her back the iPod before you turn into a complete sap._

Sansa was turning fifteen on the weekend, and there was talk of going to Narrow Sea Ocean Park on her birthday to celebrate. The cheerleaders had come up with this idea, and he was still undecided about going, though Joffrey was insisting that he go.

Joffrey had also told him of his plan to take Sansa to his family's riverfront guest house afterwards, where he'd planned some romantic dinner and seduction bullshit. He'd been bragging to the guys how he'd have Sansa's cherry before the weekend was out.

Sandor had sat and ground his teeth together the whole time the jerk had talked. _It's none of your business._ He told himself.

He rounded the corner just as a classroom door opened and a girl stepped out of it, barreling straight into his chest. He caught her around her shoulders, recognizing the purple tips of her hair first, then her swearing.

"…sonofa…motherfucker..!"

_Stark girls everywhere I turn!_

"That's twice now, little bitch," He growled over her head, "Throwing yourself at me, are you?"

She stiffened at the sound of his voice, and she looked up at him sharply, grey eyes narrowed.

Sandor realized then that she was pretty. Not at all like the little bird, but pretty in her own right.

He'd noticed the hair and the clothes, like everyone else had, but he hadn't really paid attention before. _Too busy staring at her sister,_ he thought.

Up close, he kind of liked what he saw. If she'd been taller, a little older and about a cup size larger around the bust, she could have almost been his type.

"You wish! Asshole!"Arya shrugged him off roughly. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff first!"

_Key word being, almost._He thought.

"I'd pay to see that," He sniped back.

"Why just be in the audience, when you can be an active participant?"

"Just because you look tough, doesn't mean you are."

"Just because you're breathing right now, doesn't mean you will be tomorrow."

"Still want me dead, huh?"

"Oh, _yes_." She hissed through clenched teeth, "That's not going to change."

"You're a bitch."

"So you've said."

"Where's your sister?" He asked, changing the subject.

"How the hell should I know?" Her eyes narrowed even further.

"Is she sick?" He suddenly wondered, "What are the pills for?"

"Sick? What pills?" Arya looked taken aback at his sudden line of questioning, "What are you talking about…?"

Then she inhaled sharply and her eyes went big. "…_Stupid, stupid, stupid!"_

Sandor raised his brow at her reaction.

"…So fucking _gross_! How can she let that _creep_ touch her? Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ brainless bimbo!"

"You're calling your sister a stupid, brainless, bimbo?"

Arya rounded on him, eyes suddenly fierce and furious. "Tell that jerk, _he'd better not hurt her, _do you hear me?"

His own eyes narrowed at her tone.

She took his silence to mean that he understood.

"Get the fuck out of my face!"

Arya shoved him out of her way, and stalked down the corridor in the opposite direction.

Her little outburst had served to rouse his curiosity further, and he took out his cell phone and opened a web browser to do what he should have done in the first place.

He typed in the name of the medication he'd seen drop from Sansa's bag, and tapped on the first hit that came up. He read the first few sentences, and immediately understood why Arya had reacted the way she had.

"Stupid, brainless little bird." He muttered, feeling uneasy.

Arya had been referring to Joffrey, and she was right in her concern.

Did Joffrey know about Sansa's pills? He probably didn't, Sandor figured, because Joff would have told him about it. Sandor had no intention of telling him about their existence, either. He had no intention of giving Joff anything that might lead to his seduction plan succeeding.

_Joffrey, you piece of shit, you had better not hurt her._

In any case, what could he do about it? Sandor wondered. She wasn't _his_ girlfriend. Not _his_ responsibility. Not _his_ to care about.

He didn't even have her friendship. She was frightened of him.

All he had was her iPod with her voice on it.

_You are a pathetic dog._

Feeling like the absolute worst kind of fool, Sandor decided that Sansa wasn't getting her iPod back.

* * *

**Arya**

"Argh! Fuck you, Spyder!" Arya swore when she read the gossipmonger's post that finally linked her to Jaqen H'ghar.

She hadn't cared about being gossiped about when there had been no names to tie her to anyone, but now everyone knew the name of the Braavos Academy senior, and it turned out that _The Faceless Men_ had quite a local following. She'd clicked on every link on the Spyder's site and watched as the girls in the crowd screamed.

It was easy to see why.

As a band, they were incredible. They had varied sounds, reminding her of _Incubus_ and _My Chemical Romance_, but they also had a sound that was uniquely their own. Every member of the four-member group had been classically trained at some point. All of them were undeniably talented.

But Jaqen…Jaqen was brilliance personified.

She had found his speaking voice sexy. His singing voice however, was to her ears, as molten caramel was on her tongue. Smooth, warm, buttery-golden, and silky.

His guitar skills were phenomenal, and she hated to admit it, but Gendry and Beric's band had every right to be concerned.

Jaqen was unlike anyone she had ever met before, and he intrigued her. He also elicited the most unfamiliar of responses in her, and that made her wary.

She couldn't believe he'd asked her out. She had no idea why he was even interested in her, and she would never have believed any of it had been real except there was a phone number in her contact list under his name.

His invitation had also remained unanswered. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but she knew she couldn't keep him waiting. Even as inexperienced as she was, she knew it was rude to keep a guy hanging.

She had almost gone to Sansa to ask her advice. She had almost called a truce on their standoff, and spoken to her.

She almost had – until the Hound had let slip, through his own ignorance, that Sansa was on the pill. Of course their mother would have taken Sansa to the clinic as well, Arya chastised herself for her oversight. If Sansa had a prescription for the pill, it meant she was thinking of, if she wasn't already, doing the nasty with Joffrey.

_Ughhhhhh!_ Just the thought of Joffrey made her skin crawl.

It had renewed her anger at her sister, but also made her very worried. Sansa was blind as far as Joffrey was concerned, and she couldn't see the potential menace that Arya did. Regardless of how much her older sister angered and frustrated her, Arya didn't want to see her hurt.

_Not unless it's by my own hands, but that's beside the point._

Moving away from her computer, she pushed her stupid sister's problems out of her mind and reminded herself that it was Thursday and that she was having dinner at Gendry's that evening. She'd been looking forward to it all week! Gendry had said he'd invited the guys in the band, as well as Beric's girlfriend Allyria, and also Jenny, the girl Tom was currently dating. They would all meet up at Gendry's house after school.

Arya went to her closet and picked out a new outfit to wear, choosing a white sleeveless top with a print on the front, and layered it over a bright orange tank. She chose tight black jeans to match it with, and black, Cuban heeled boots. She shrugged a distressed denim jacket over her skinny shoulders to guard against the oncoming autumn chill in the air.

She looked at her reflection in her mirror, and wondered what Gendry would make of the slogan on her top. _I PREFER THE DRUMMER_, it read.

"Arya, I recall you'll be having dinner at Gendry's tonight," Her father said to her when she came down for breakfast. "Will you be going to his foster-parents' house directly after school?"

"Ahuh," Arya replied, buttering a slice of toast. "I might need the driver to pick me up later tonight."

"That's fine, just remember to call." Ned nodded, "Have you spoken to Jon recently?"

Arya grinned. "Yep, and he says they'll definitely be here this weekend!"

"All three of them?"

"Yes, even Theon."

Arya's phone beeped, and she kissed her father on the cheek before she headed out the door.

"That's Hot Pie letting me know he's on his way."

"Hot Pie? What is the boy's real name, Arya?"

"I can't pronounce it. It's about thirteen syllables long, and I can't spell it," Arya shrugged, "But you should know that his mom owns that franchise."

"_Mrs. Hot Pie?_"

"That's the one!"

"I'm impressed Arya," He called out to her, "You picked friends that can drive, and also one that can supply you with your favorite bakery treat!"

"It's called networking, father," She laughed. "I learned from you!"

She finished eating her toast by the time she got to the front door, and heard her mother coming down the stairs, telling off a misbehaving Rickon.

"Are you leaving now, Arya?"

"Yes, mother. Have a nice day!" Arya called to Catelyn as she bounded down the front steps.

Hot Pie was in his unassuming and reliable, silver Chrysler when she got to the foot of the gate.

"Why didn't you buzz yourself in through the gate?" She asked when she got into the front seat, "Instead you made me run down here."

"I forgot the combination." He replied sheepishly. "Nice shirt!"

"Thanks!"

Hot Pie and Gendry sometimes picked her up on their way to school, depending on their own schedules. She preferred riding with them rather than having to share a ride with Sansa.

She and Hot Pie got caught up in traffic, and were consequently running late to class when they finally reached King's Landing Prep. She didn't get to see Gendry until lunch, where it appeared Beric, Allyria and Edric had decided to join them. Tom and Thoros were the only members of the band that were no longer at school.

"Hey, guys!" Arya greeted them.

"There's the birthday girl!" Beric smiled at her.

"What made you decide to forsake the performing arts block and join us today?" Arya asked them.

"The chance to bask in warm sunshine, and the prospect of talking about something other than _Battle of the Bands_!" Allyria replied with a laugh.

Arya had met and spoken to Allyria several times since Gendry had joined Beric's band. She was a senior, like Beric, and had long golden-blond hair and the same blue-violet eyes as Edric, her nephew. She'd explained that while she was technically Edric's aunt, their two-year age gap meant they related more as older sister and younger brother.

"That starts in three weeks, right?" Arya said, shrugging out of her jacket now that she was in the open sunshine.

"Don't get Beric started…"

Allyria and Beric then caught sight of her shirt and laughed.

Gendry rolled his eyes and muttered, "Unbelievable…"

Then Arya saw that Edric was staring at her, smiling at her unusually, while his eyes twinkled purple in amusement.

"I had no idea you felt that way," He said to her quietly.

"Excuse me?" She looked up at him.

"It's me she's after…not Jaqen." Edric beamed, and put his arm around Arya's waist.

"_What_?"Arya squawked, turning in the crook of his arm.

"It's says so on your shirt…" Edric pointed out, and Arya saw that his blue eyes were filled with humor. "…_I prefer the drummer_…"

Arya blushed scarlet.

She'd meant to get a laugh by wearing the shirt, but she'd never thought about what the actual drummer himself would make of it.

"She's so cute when she blushes!" Edric gave her a squeeze and let her go, laughing all the while.

"The look on your face was priceless!" Allyria laughed.

She sat next to Gendry as the laughter died down and conversation resumed around them about what Mrs. Mott would be serving for dinner that night, and of course Beric couldn't help but talk about _Battle of the Bands._

"It's true," Gendry said, "You are cute when you blush."

"Oh, give it a rest." She poked her tongue out at him and unwrapped her sandwich, but she was secretly pleased.

Gendry lowered his voice and asked her about whether she'd read the Spyder's post that morning.

"Were you really with Jaqen at that juice bar?"

Arya winced, and wondered how much she should tell him. "Yep, but it was coincidence. I was already there and he walked in and saw me."

She recalled Jaqen saying he didn't believe in coincidence.

"What did he want?" Gendry's question was innocent enough, but something made her hold back.

"Nothing," She lied. "He just said hello."

She didn't want Gendry knowing about Jaqen asking her out. Especially not after the way he'd gone all weird when he'd found out how she and Jaqen had met, and the fact Gendry just plain didn't seem to like the guy.

Gendry was her friend, but it wasn't any of his business who she wanted to date.

They got caught up in the conversation around them, and Hot Pie did his best to try and coax Gendry into telling them what his foster-mom would be feeding them that night, but Gendry had just laughed away all of their questions.

"It's meant to be a surprise for Arya," He said, "And Ellen's been looking forward to tonight since I first mentioned it to her."

Arya was also looking forward to meeting Gendry's family. That's what they were, regardless of what he said about them not being his real family. He had lived with them for six years, and there was genuine affection in his voice when he talked about them.

After school, Arya walked down to the student lot to wait for Gendry at his car, and noticed that a crowd had gathered around a flashy silver Porsche.

_I know that Porsche_…

Arya hastened her steps and took the steps at a bound, two at a time.

She saw Robb's auburn head first, and her heart began to race. Theon stood leaning against the Porsche, pretending to look bored as high-school girls checked him out…and then she saw Jon.

His dark hair was disheveled, and he wore black jeans, boots and a white Henley tee that showed off his muscular arms like nobody's business. Her brothers were good-looking, and they knew it!

"Jon!" She called out, and tried to fight her way past the inordinate number of girls that had crowded around them. "Over here, Jon!"

Her brother turned his head at the sound of her voice.

Jon saw nothing but a flash of purple, before a small, feminine body crashed into him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. He had to take a step back to keep from toppling over.

"_Arya?"_ Jon pulled his head back to look at the girl in his arms who sounded like Arya.

Little pointy teeth were bared to him in a smile, in a face that was altogether leaner than he remembered. He took in the layered and colored hair next, then the tighter clothes that clung to curves she never had before, and his eyes widened.

"Oh, my god…Arya!"

"It's so good to see you!" She hugged him again, "You're here early! I thought you wouldn't get here until Saturday?"

She pulled away from him, and went to hug an equally stunned Robb.

"Hi Robb!"

"What have you done to yourself, Arya?" Robb hugged his barely recognizable little sister, "You look great!"

She hugged Theon last, tighter than she normally would have, just because she was just so happy to see them!

"Whoa!" Theon whistled. "Baby sister isn't such a baby anymore!"

"Shut up, Theon." She let him go and punched his arm.

"I can't get over how she looks…" Jon was saying to Robb.

"I had no idea you guys were going to be here early!" She turned to Jon and Robb again.

This was the cherry on top, she thought.

"Father knew," Jon said, "We wanted to surprise you."

"Where's Sansa?" Robb asked, looking around expecting to see their other sister.

Arya made a face, "Probably with Joffrey, her boyfriend."

"Joffrey Baratheon?" Robb and Theon asked at the same time.

"There'd better only be one douche called Joffrey," Arya replied, at which her brothers laughed.

Gendry turned up at that moment, with Hot Pie not far behind him, and stood at Arya's shoulder. Jon held out his hand to him immediately.

"Hey, Gendry!" He smiled at him widely. "Good to meet you in person."

Arya gaped. "You guys know each other?"

"Only online, and just recently." Gendry replied.

"Gendry tracked me down through Facebook to see if I'd be able to make it to the house party you guys are having tonight for your birthday," Jon grinned. "Looks like I'll make it after all!"

Jon and Arya introduced Gendry and Hot Pie to Robb and Theon, and Gendry extended the invitation to that night's dinner to both of them. Both of them declined politely, knowing that Arya would prefer Jon to herself.

"I'll catch up with you when get back, and there's still the weekend." Robb said to Arya. "I'd like to catch up with mother and father, and see Bran and Rickon."

"And find out about this douche Sansa's dating," Theon supplied, an odd look on his face.

Robb had always been closer to Sansa when they were growing up. She sincerely hoped Robb would get to meet him, and find him lacking.

"Then we'll see you back at Chateau Maegor later," Jon said to Robb and Theon as they got into Robb's Porsche.

"Have fun tonight, little sister!" Robb waved to her as they drove off.

Jon now turned to Arya and Gendry.

"Where to?"

"This way," Gendry let them to his BMW.

Arya occupied the back seat while she let Jon take the front. Hot Pie said he'd meet them at Gendry's as he had to go and pick up the pies he'd promised Arya first. Beric and the others would all meet at Gendry's place later.

"That's right, we have to make a stop first. Don't we, Gendry?" Jon said.

"That's right, we do." Gendry agreed.

"What's going on, you two?" Arya demanded. "How long have you been chatting on Facebook? Where are we going? Why do we have to make a stop?"

"Still such a little pain…" Jon sighed, but with obvious affection. "How'd you end up friends with this little twerp, Gendry?"

"Jon!" Arya wailed.

"I met her on my first day," Gendry replied, "She kind of latched on, and I haven't been able to shake her since."

"Gendry!" Arya exclaimed, but she was smiling.

It was great that her beloved brother, and the boy she considered her closest friend were getting along.

They soon came to Trident's Bend, and Gendry parked the car in front of the boutique Arya had shopped at. She got out of the car and waited for one of them to let her know what was going on.

"Will one of you tell me what this is about?"

"You'll see," Jon smiled at her and took her arm.

"Just go with it, Arya," Gendry said, "Stop fussing."

Jon and Gendry marched her down the esplanade, and Arya's eyes widened when they stopped in front of _Forel's Music Store_.

"Jon?" She looked at him, "You didn't. Did you?"

He shrugged, "Get inside, Arya."

"Did he, Gendry?" She grinned at him brightly.

The sheer joy in her smile undid him, and he gave in a little. "Okay, fine. Jon came up with the idea. I just told him where he could buy it."

Syrio Forel himself greeted them as they entered his store, and his eyes twinkled when he recognized Arya.

"Ah! Arya Stark!" He looked at her companions, "And you are The Bull, yes?"

Gendry nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Wonderful! Jaqen has spoken of you."

Gendry's eyes narrowed at the mention of Jaqen's name.

"And you are Jon Stark," Syrio smiled at her brother. "We spoke on the phone, and I have just what you asked for, all ready. I shall get it for you."

"Thank you, for all your help, Syrio."

Jon watched his sister the entire time as Syrio produced the guitar case on the counter and lifted the lid.

"Oh…Jon!" Was all Arya could manage to say.

"You have a very special brother, Arya Stark," Syrio Forel stated, "He loves you very much."

Jon had bought her a Gibson Hummingbird acoustic guitar. It was an iconic model, first produced in the 60's, and boasted a Sitka Spruce top, with Mahogany back and sides, and a square-shoulder dreadnought body type.

It was the perfect guitar for her, and only Jon would have known that.

"It's too much…" She said, "Jon, I don't even know how to play."

"But you will," He said. "And you'll learn to play it damn well, too."

Arya hugged him again. "Thank you so much!"

"It's got a name, too. If you want to know," He said, "Can you guess?"

"You named my guitar?" She looked at the beautiful guitar in the case, with its distinctive hummingbird design on the pickguard and Mother of Pearl accents on the fretboard, "What did you call it?"

"Needle," He replied, and Arya smiled at him in understanding. "I'll teach you to play the rest of that song, I promise."

He was referring to the song he'd started to teach her, but never finished. Neil Young's _The Needle And The Damage Done._

The Mott's and Gendry lived in a six bedroom house in the suburb of The Forge Estates. It wasn't a mansion, but a grand house all the same. On entering, Arya noticed that the double doors had a carving of a hunting scene depicted on it, and that two stone statues of knights dressed in armor bearing the shapes of a griffon and a unicorn guarded the entrance.

"The statues came with the house," Gendry said when he caught her amused expression.

Despite the statues, the house was cozy and comfortable. It was a real family home.

Mr. Tobho Mott, and Mrs. Ellen Mott were in their early forties, and had two children of their own. An eleven year old son named Toby, and a seven year old daughter named Tabitha. Gendry's brother and sister, in effect.

Tabitha had run to Gendry the moment he'd walked in through the door, and Arya realized that the seven year old would have only been a baby when Gendry joined their family. Tabitha probably considered him as a real brother.

Mr. Mott, a wiry and balding man, had shaken their hands when he'd welcomed them into their home, while Mrs. Mott was brown haired, a little plump, and quite pretty. Their children were both brown haired, but had inherited their father's skinny frame.

Arya and Jon had thanked Gendry's foster-parents profusely for hosting Arya's birthday dinner, especially considering they had never met her before.

"Oh, think nothing of it," Mrs. Mott had said as she'd checked on whatever was roasting away in the oven. "We've been looking forward to meeting you, Arya."

Gendry had shown them quickly around the house, and then he and Jon had gone to help Mr. Mott set up the four-burner barbeque in the back garden, while Arya had chatted with Mrs. Mott and Tabitha in the kitchen. Mrs. Mott had two dishes in the oven, as well as various pots on the stove bubbling away, and all of it smelling wonderful!

Hot Pie arrived a short while later, with three boxes of pies baked by his mother, Mrs. Hot Pie herself, especially for Arya.

Beric, Allyria, Edric, Thoros, Tom and his girlfriend Jenny all arrived together, and it became evident that dinner would have to be served buffet style seeing as the house had suddenly filled up with people.

Jon and Arya had never experienced anything like it, and both were loving every moment of it.

Mr. Mott had the guys cooking up the burgers and hot-dogs on the barbeque, while Mrs. Mott had the girls setting up all the food on a long table under the patio.

In addition to the barbeque, there were also salads, a baked macaroni dish, spicy chicken wings, sticky ribs, corn on the cob and warm bread rolls.

For dessert, there were the pies Hot Pie's mother had baked, a fruit salad, ice cream, and Mrs. Mott had even baked a cake for Arya.

Everyone sang her a Happy Birthday, which had gotten her surprisingly emotional, then she'd had to kiss the nearest boy because she'd touched the bottom of the cake when she'd cut it. Toby Mott did not stop blushing all night after Arya had planted one on his cheek.

After they'd eaten, Arya had requested that Beric, Gendry and Jon sing a song for all of them. Allyria and the others had then insisted on it, and Gendry had gone and fetched his acoustic guitar, while Arya's new guitar, Needle, was christened by Jon.

Arya was on such a high that night, and she had Gendry to thank for it. None of it would have been possible if it hadn't been for him.

She sought him out during a quiet moment when Jon was engrossed in conversation with Tom and Thoros, and the others were laughing at something inappropriate that Beric had said.

"Gendry," She sat next to him on the swing-seat he occupied, a little too forcefully, almost sending them into the dirt.

"Steady!" Gendry said, grabbing her to stop her from sliding off the seat.

"Whoops!" Arya laughed, and gripped his upper arm for balance, "Too much sugar in my system!"

"You had two slices of cake," He observed, "And a slice of every flavor pie, and ice cream."

"All right, so I made a pig of myself," She said, still laughing. "It's all your fault, you know."

"My fault you've got the appetite of three grown men?"

"You know what I mean!" She pinched his arm.

"Ow!"

She hugged him tightly, wrapping her arms around his waist so hard he couldn't breathe, and pressing her face against his.

"Thank you, Gendry," She said into his ear. "Thank you, so much."

He returned the pressure of her hug half a heartbeat later, and he let her go only when her hold began to loosen.

"You're welcome," He said, and cleared his throat. "I didn't get you anything though."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I didn't buy you a gift…I didn't know what to get you."

"You've given me the best gift, Gendry!" Arya put her hand on his arm. "It's so totally cheesy, and completely cliché, but you've given me memories tonight. You can't pay for stuff like that."

He smiled and shook his head, "You're right, that _is_ way too cheesy."

"Tell anyone I said that, and you're dead. Got that?"

"Got it," Gendry was sitting so close to her that their knees touched, and he suddenly took hold of the hand she'd laid on his arm. "There is something I can give you,"

"What's that?"

He shrugged, "Just another memory,"

He pulled her in close.

"Gendry…" She said nervously.

"Don't freak out, Arya," He said, "It's just a kiss,"

He leaned down and kissed her. It was light, brief and warm, just on the corner of her mouth, and over all too soon. It was a sweet kiss, and yet it sent tendrils of something hot and promising in her veins.

"Happy Birthday, Arya." Gendry smiled down at her, and Arya could do nothing but blink at him.

Then he stood up and walked away.

She came back to herself only when Jon told her that it was getting late and that they should be going. He'd already called their father to send the car around for them.

It was a surprise to everyone when Eddard Stark himself came to collect them, and he spent a few minutes chatting to the stunned Mr. and Mrs. Mott, and thanking them for their generosity towards his daughter.

Gendry had shaken his hand and met his eyes without flinching, looking perfectly at ease when everyone else meeting her father seemed to start shaking. Eddard Stark had always had that effect on people. All except Gendry it seemed.

Arya had gone home, off-kilter due to Gendry's kiss, and yet still buzzing from everything else that had happened that night. She didn't think anything else could top her buzz at that moment.

And then she'd woken up on Friday morning – her actual birthday – and father had told her that she could take the day off school!

* * *

A/N

Part II will be up shortly, I promise!

Special thanks goes out to NerdyNinjaGirl for giving me the idea for that bit of fluff about Arya's slogan top – please see the link on my profile if you'd like to see the shirt as worn by Maisie Williams.


	8. Episode 8 Birthday Girls Part II

**Hi all – Part II, as promised! **

**To reviewer 'mrm' on 8/6/12 about Jimi Hendrix and 'Little Wing'…you read my mind!**

**All of you SanSan lovers out there...half this episode belongs to you guys...literally, like 5000 words of it! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Episode 8**

**"Birthday Girls"**

**Part II**

**Gossip Spyder**

Hello peeps!

In case any of you missed the commotion at the student parking lot yesterday afternoon – the dashing Stark brothers, Jon and Robb, are in town! Sansa and Arya's big brothers are obviously here to celebrate their birthdays. I hear both brothers are currently single…!

Also with them is Theon Greyjoy, youngest son of shipping magnate, Balon Greyjoy (CEO of _Kraken Shipping Lines_). Theon has the reputation of being a bit of a ladies man, and with his roguish good looks, it's not hard to see why!

Rumor has it that Arya has already started celebrating early, and the weekend hasn't even arrived!

Arya, you're officially fourteen today – again, happy birthday!

Sansa – what's that handsome boyfriend of yours got planned for your birthday? Let's hope he knows how to treat you right!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Jon**

"Tell me again why you and Sansa aren't speaking to each other?" Jon asked Arya as they followed Robb, Theon, Sansa and her friend Jeyne into the King's Landing Prep grounds.

It was Friday night, and they had all decided to come and watch the _White Knights_ play against Qarth High School's varsity team, the _Warlocks._

Arya's friend Hot Pie would meet up with them later, while Gendry had called her earlier and apologized for not being able to make it. Apparently Beric was having a panic attack about the _Battle of the Bands_ competition being three weeks away and had insisted on more rehearsals.

"Because her boyfriend is a first class douche-bag, and she's a stupid airhead who can't see it." His sister replied waspishly.

He and Arya had spent her birthday, and unexpected day off from school, just hanging out and catching up. They'd woken up late, had breakfast and Jon had spent the best part of the morning teaching her to play her new guitar. When Robb and Theon woke up at around noon, they'd gone to Trident's Bend and had lunch at The Inn of the Kneeling Man.

After lunch, they made a surprise visit to their father, and Eddard had shown them around the site of _Stark Industries' _Southern Division.

Arya had then received a text message from Hot Pie asking if she would be coming to the football game that night, and Jon, Robb and Theon had agreed they would all go with her.

Robb had then expressed his wish to meet Sansa's boyfriend, and called her up to see that it happen.

"This all started because of that fight you had with the guy?" Jon recalled, "You haven't spoken to her in weeks?"

"That's right, and I don't intend to speak to her while she's with him."

"Is he that bad?"

"See for yourself," Arya nodded ahead of them where Sansa had met up with a blonde boy, and an enormous guy with a horrible burn scar on his face.

"Whoa!" Jon exclaimed, "Who the hell is that?"

"That's Sandor Clegane, better known as the Hound. Also known as the asshole who beat up my friend."

Jon figured it was best that Arya not get anywhere near Sansa, Joffrey or this Hound at that moment, so he found a distraction for her.

"Hey, why don't you go and get us some hotdogs and soda, and find us some seats before they all fill up?" He dug into his pocket and handed her some money, "This won't take long."

Arya gave him a look. "Fine, but don't think I don't know what you're doing."

When she'd gone, Jon lengthened his strides and caught up with the others.

Robb had insisted on meeting Joffrey before the game, and Theon had seconded this request. Now they all stood in the student lot as Sansa made the introductions. A bit of small talk ensued, but Jon could sense that Robb and Theon were itching to start laying into Joffrey Baratheon.

Jon immediately understood what Arya had been telling him. The blonde-haired-green-eyed pretty boy had this cockiness and air of entitlement around him that just made you want to punch him in the face.

Jon held this urge in check. He had never been Sansa's favorite brother, but he cared about her as much as he cared about Arya. He didn't want to see her hurt.

"How old did you say you were?" Robb was asking Joffrey.

"Almost seventeen," Joffrey replied.

Jon was about to turn twenty, Robb had turned nineteen, and Theon was already twenty. All three of them stood just that much taller, and broader than Joffrey to make him look…uncomfortable.

Sansa also looked uncomfortable, and Jon almost felt bad for what he was about to take part in…almost.

He shot Robb a look. _Send Sansa and her friend away._

"Sansa, why don't you and Jeyne go on ahead and find us some seats," Robb instructed her. "We won't be long,"

"But…"

"Go on, Sansa." Robb said using a tone eerily like the one their father used when he meant business.

"Okay," Sansa obeyed, like the good girl she was.

"Thanks, Sansa. Arya's already gone ahead to buy hotdogs, too." Jon added.

The enormous, burned-faced guy stood a little ways behind Joffrey, wearing an expression that looked something like a smirk. He seemed to be finding Joffrey's discomfort amusing.

"So, you're actually two years older than Sansa. How long have you been dating? Sansa hasn't told us much about you." Robb said when Sansa was out of earshot.

Sansa hadn't told them anything. Full stop.

"Just a few weeks," Joffrey replied cautiously, "Shortly after we met at the party that my parents held to welcome your family to the South."

"Oh? That wasn't that long ago…so, you wouldn't have had a chance to get to know each other all that well." Theon stated.

"Well, it's just a matter of time…"Joffrey shrugged.

"Sansa's a sweet girl," Jon declared, wearing a predatory smile. "Not like Arya,"

Joffrey's expression turned suspicious at the mention of Arya's name.

"Yes, she is sweet," Joffrey said, "My mother likes her."

"Everyone likes Sansa," Theon added, "It's hard not to."

"She's very pretty, too." Robb continued, "I can't imagine anyone not liking her…let alone anyone wanting to _hurt_ her."

"She's also quite innocent, wouldn't you say, Robb?" Jon added. "I'd hate to see anyone try and _take advantage_ of that, wouldn't you, Joffrey?"

"No, I wouldn't want that." Joffrey was starting to look annoyed, recognizing when he was being threatened. "Are you suggesting that–?"

"I wasn't suggesting anything. In fact it's a good thing she found you," Robb said, and Jon could see how much effort it took for his brother to say that without a hint of the derision he could see lying under his calm façade, "I'm sure you won't let anything like that happen to her."

"Of course he wouldn't," Theon smiled, clasping Joffrey around the shoulders, "He's a Baratheon! You _will_ look after Sansa, won't you?"

"Well, yeah…" Joffrey responded.

Jon was not convinced, and neither were Robb or Theon. However, Sansa had chosen him, and there really wasn't much they could do about that.

"That's great to hear," Robb finally cracked a smile, and the tension left the group. "It was good to meet you, Joffrey…and you too, Sandor."

"Likewise," Sandor grunted.

"Yeah, nice meeting you all," Joffrey looked like he couldn't wait to bolt, "Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to get ready for the game."

"Good luck fellas," Jon said to them, "We'll catch you after the game."

Jon and the others waited until both guys were far from hearing before they burst out laughing.

"What a jerk," Robb shook his head, "Is he really Robert Baratheon's son?"

"Did you see the look on that big guy's face?" Jon said, "He looked like he was trying to stop himself from laughing!"

"Is that what that expression was?"

They eventually found Arya, Sansa and Jeyne in the stands. Jeyne had strategically seated herself between the sisters. Hot Pie had joined them by this time, and Jon sat next to Arya and relieved her of the hotdogs and soda she was holding for him.

"Hey, Sansa," Theon said, taking a seat beside her. "Joffrey seems like a _nice boy_…is he a good kisser?"

Sansa's face went a funny color at his question, bypassing red altogether and turning a shade of puce purple.

As they waited for the match to start, Jon thought of the kiss he'd witnessed Gendry giving Arya, and wondered if he should have had a similar chat with him, too.

* * *

**Arya**

Arya sat primly and uncomfortably in a black, strapless, peplum-skirted cocktail dress. Her hair was tucked into a constricting bun at the back of her head, as her mother had instructed her to do. She was also wearing heels. The dress and shoes were two of her new purchases, but she regretted the heels majorly.

It was Saturday night, and as she had predicted, her parents had booked a fancy dinner in a fancy restaurant. What made it bearable was the fact Jon and Robb had promised that they would go somewhere fun afterwards. The catch was that Sansa had to come as well.

Despite the blister forming on her little toe, Arya had to admit that the presence of her brothers had definitely made for an enjoyable evening so far.

Robb had spent most of the day with Sansa, while Jon and Theon had spent the day with Arya, Bran and Rickon, watching UFC replays and episodes of _The_ _Ultimate_ _Fighter._

The three of them were driving back North the following day, and were determined that Arya and Sansa had a good time while they were together. Robb had told her that they'd had to do some schedule shifting so that they could come down a few days earlier, but there was no way they could extend their stay.

It meant they wouldn't be able to stay for Sansa's actual birthday, so Robb, as Sansa's favorite, had made it up to her by buying her an extravagant amount of presents. His day out with her had involved stopping at her favorite high fashion boutiques.

He'd picked up a CC Skye bracelet for Arya while he'd been out, and she'd loved the design, but she ignored the fact Sansa had more than likely picked it out for her. She was wearing the gold chain and woven leather on her wrist at present, being the only accessory she had matched with the black dress.

"Your mother and I have gifts for both of you," Father announced shortly before dessert was to be served.

He then reached inside his jacket, and produced two identical blue jewelry boxes, in the distinctive Tiffany & Co hue.

"We hope you both like them," Mother smiled as she took one of the boxes.

The one her father held was given to Arya, and when she opened it she found a fine golden chain, at the end of which a filigree butterfly dangled. Her grey eyes met her fathers, and the smile she gave him was tremulous.

"From the chrysalis of childhood, you've emerged a young lady, Arya." Father said to her softly, almost poetically.

_I'm not a child anymore, _she thought, _but I'm not a lady either._

Sansa opened hers, to find a little bird…a golden dove, dangling from the end of an identical golden chain.

"Stay as sweet as you are, Sansa," Mother said to her, "Happy birthday, girls!"

Arya and Sansa hugged and thanked their parents, and father had obliged and fastened their respective necklaces around their necks. Their parents had never bought them jewelry before, and Arya saw this as a sign that they finally saw them as young women.

After dessert had been eaten and cleared away, father had settled the bill and they headed out of the restaurant where valet had retrieved their cars.

Their parents went home with Bran and Rickon in one car, while the rest of them piled into a Mercedes sedan that Robb had borrowed from their father so that they could all fit in. His Porche unfortunately, wasn't built to carry five.

"Where are we going?" Arya asked from the rear seat, between Theon and Jon.

Jon had tactfully pushed Sansa to the front passenger seat so that Arya wouldn't have to sit next to her.

"To this club we'd heard about," Robb replied, "Apparently they have the best bands playing there."

"Awesome." Arya smiled, and then started hunting around for the bag she had stashed on the floor earlier that evening.

"What are you looking for?" Jon asked.

"Boots," She replied, "I'm not wearing these ankle-breakers a second longer."

The bag had been found, and with her characteristic swearing, Arya changed into her black boots with the Cuban heels, then promptly pulled out all the pins holding her hair up and shook it out, revealing the bright purple tips that had been tucked away.

"Ah, that's better!"

Robb took the Kingsroad Expressway, and Arya noticed a sign heading to Braavos.

"Are we going to Braavos?" Sansa voiced the question.

"Yes," Robb replied, "We're going to the Port at Braavos actually."

When they reached the Port, Arya noticed that the area was much like the trendy Trident's Bend, with restaurants, cafes and bars along the waterfront. The only difference being that the buildings at the Port were from an older era.

Robb pulled into a car park in front of a large grey building with massive, carved wooden doors twelve feet high. One side of the door was white, and the other ebony.

The sign above the door read; _The House of Black and White._

Arya gasped in recognition.

Her heart rate increased, and her eyes were suddenly darting around just in case she caught a glimpse of a handsome boy with red and platinum streaked hair. She didn't know if she was anticipating running into him, or dreading it because she hadn't given him an answer.

She followed her brothers, Theon and Sansa into the club, where they were led to a table towards the middle of the room. Looking around, Arya saw that the décor was very much art-deco inspired, with lots of geometric patterns, angular lines and unusual curves. The color theme, as would be obvious, was black and white.

There was a stage at the back of the room, which was currently occupied by the current act, and a dais on another stage on the opposite end of the room, upon which stood a gleaming white grand piano. _The House of Black and White_, was originally a piano bar, and was so named for the color of the instrument's keys.

A waif-like woman wearing a black and white dress came up to their table and smiled at the guys. At first glance she looked quite young, but Arya realized the woman had to be in her thirties and only looked young because of her small frame.

"What's your poison, sweethearts?" She asked the guys.

As her brothers ordered drinks, Arya watched the two guys and a girl trio on stage playing some new-age sounding music that had a hint of folksiness about it, and observed that the majority of the people in the crowd were young, and had a hipster feel about them. Their clothes were geek-chic, vintage-store one-offs, dressed down and minimalistic-fashionable.

_Maybe he won't be here tonight. _

Arya didn't know how often _The Faceless Men_ played at _The House of Black and White_, and wondered if she was winding herself up for nothing. What were the chances of her running into him that night?

The trio on stage ended their set, and an emcee announced the next act.

"Ladies and gents, these guys don't need an introduction," A round of screaming followed this announcement, "But for those of you joining us here for the first time tonight, please give it up for _The Faceless Men_!"

More screaming from the crowd ensued, but Arya only heard the rushing of her blood in her ears.

_Chances are pretty freakin' high!_

Jaqen was bound to see her, she knew it. The room wasn't so dark, and their table was almost directly in front of the stage that suddenly seemed way too close.

And he did.

Jaqen came onto the stage wearing that half-smile of his, looking ridiculously hot in torn jeans, scuffed boots and a white shirt under a grey pinstripe vest. His eyes had locked on her immediately, as though he'd known she was there all along.

His smile widened, and he gave her in imperceptible nod, before he addressed the crowd in that sexy accent he had.

"Good evening to you all," He said into the microphone, "A man must introduce himself firstly, I am Jaqen H'ghar…"

Sansa's brows had risen, recognizing the name from the Gossip Spyder's post, and Arya could feel her sister's stare, but neither of them said a word.

"…this handsome man on my right is Ky on the bass," Jaqen continued, "The fat fellow behind me on the drums is Jorge, and on the keyboards is Izembaro."

"I heard these guys are awesome," Theon said.

"I heard that too," Jon said, turning to Arya, "And that guy was looking right at you, Arya."

"Was he?" She feigned ignorance, and kept her eyes on the stage.

"…Tonight, we will start by playing a new song that I wrote just two days ago. It's a funny song, and it is actually a true story," Jaqen was saying as he picked up his guitar, "A lovely girl took my phone number, but I'm almost embarrassed to say that I have not heard from her…and that was more than a week ago!" The crowd laughed, "It's titled, _In Your Hands._"

_OH MY FREAKING GOD!_

Arya wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

The drummer counted them in, and Jaqen struck a chord. The song was up-tempo, indie-rock in feel and definitely cheeky with just a hint of self-deprecation. Jaqen had gone and written a song about _her_ keeping _him_ waiting.

_"It's not every day that I expect, a girl like you to fall into my lap. I did not suspect, that I'd fall into your trap!"_

He was teasing her, making fun of her in that buttery-golden, molten caramel voice of his. She almost groaned, but she didn't want him to stop singing.

The crowd was really getting into it, and Jaqen sang the role of unlucky-in-love-fool to perfection. Arya snuck a look at Sansa, and found her sister smiling and cheering like every other person in the the crowd.

Jaqen got to the chorus, and he looked directly at Arya as he sang it.

"_Must you be such a mystery? Girl, please tell me 'bout your plans, and put me out of my misery…Because my fate is in your hands…"_

"I know how that feels!" Jon laughed, "I've been left hanging once or twice myself."

"Me, too." Robb cringed, "Not a nice feeling."

Arya got Jaqen's message loud and clear.

They sang another half-dozen songs, all of which Arya had heard before in the videos she'd found of them online. Jaqen's voice had sent goosebumps all along her spine and arms the entire time.

By the time they were on their last song, she had an answer for him.

She dug her cell phone out of her clutch and began a new message for Jaqen.

"Start with one."

She pressed 'SEND'.

She clapped and cheered when they finished their set and as they downed their instruments. She watched him as he crossed the room to stand at the bar and order a drink from the waif in the black and white dress, and as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and read her message.

His eyes met hers across the room, and he smiled.

Arya then wondered what she would do if he decided to come and speak to her, with both her brothers and her sister present.

_Oh, hell no!_ She wasn't going to risk that scenario.

She grabbed her phone again and began to type madly.

"_Big brothers and sister with me. Don't come over here!"_

Across the room, she watched as Jaqen H'ghar threw back his head and laughed.

* * *

**Sansa**

King's Landing had been experiencing unseasonably warm weather for October. Winter was definitely on its way, Sansa could feel it in the early morning and evening air, but its chill seemed to take longer to get a grip in the South. Consequently, the day of her birthday saw temperatures warm enough to warrant a pleasant day at Narrow Sea Ocean Park, the only water amusement park in the South. Narrow Sea Ocean Park had numerous attractions, including wave pools, river rapid rides, looping tube rides, ridiculously high waterslides and even a pirate-themed mini-park for little children, to name a few.

She'd had a wonderful breakfast with her family, and enjoyed the last few hours with Robb and Jon before they hit the road to get back to their college in the North, promising to return at Thanksgiving. Arya had been upset to see Jon go, and she envied her relationship with their brother. While she did favor Robb, their goodbye had not ended in tears.

Theon, she was happy to see depart.

Sansa could have happily gotten violent with him for that dig he'd made about Joffrey on the night that the two had met.

"Joffrey seems like a _nice boy_…is he a good kisser?" Theon had asked.

She hadn't wanted to compare Theon's and Joffrey's kiss, but that question had made her think about it. If she were honest with herself, the truth was that she actually couldn't tell the difference, except Theon had tasted like bourbon, and Joff usually of mint chewing gum. Neither were sloppy kissers, at least not the sloppy as described to her by Randa anyway, but there was nothing remarkable about either of their kisses.

_He's gone now, let it go._

Shortly after her brothers and Theon had departed, Joffrey and her friends had then picked her up from Chateau Meagor, and they'd all driven to Narrow Sea Ocean Park. Much to her surprise, Sandor had turned up by himself.

Together with Trant, Randa, Mya, her boyfriend Lothor, and Jeyne, they made one loud, laughing and giggling party. They settled themselves around a patch of grass by one of the main pools, laying out towels on the ground, and commandeering the available plastic sun-loungers nearby.

Sansa draped her towel over one of the plastic sun-loungers and made room for Joffrey who'd sat down beside her.

"Do you need to go to the change rooms first?" He asked her, "I need you to put sunblock on my back."

"No, I'm wearing my bikini underneath," She replied.

"Bikini, huh?" Joffrey slid closer to her and tugged on the sleeve of her midriff-top to reveal the color of her straps. "Green…can't wait to see you in it!"

Sansa wished he'd lowered his voice. The Hound sat on his towel on the ground near them, and though he looked like he wasn't listening, she'd prefer he didn't overhear anything she deemed should be between her and Joffrey alone.

"I can't wait to get in the water!" Randa exclaimed, and promptly lifted her sleeveless top up and over her head, revealing a bright pink halter bikini top.

"Me, too!" Mya agreed.

"I haven't been here in so long!" Jeyne said, taking the sun-lounger beside Sansa.

For a few minutes, the boys – except Sandor who was silent, as always – joked around and pretended not to be ogling the girls with them as they took off various layers of clothing to reveal the bikinis and swimsuits they wore. The cheerleaders, as expected, were toned and terrific, with Mya drawing gazes in her red one-piece with cutout sides. Jeyne wore a sporty, black and neon green two-piece with boy-leg shorts, revealing she had a taut figure under the conservative clothes she wore at school.

Sansa was the last to undress, and she removed her denim shorts first. Four pairs of male eyes immediately landed on the curve of her bottom. She then lifted her top over her head, and the same four pairs travelled upwards to land on the C cups she was so proud of. Her halter-top bikini, and the matching hipster bottoms were of a deep emerald green that complimented her fair skin tones and auburn hair perfectly. She currently wore her hair in a long braid to keep it off her face.

"Oh, Sansa," Jeyne exclaimed, "Make sure you use plenty of sunblock, you don't want to burn!"

The guys stopped gawking, and Joffrey handed her the bottle of sunblock lotion.

"Here, help me with this."

Joffrey peeled off his t-shirt and sat in front of her in just his board shorts. Obediently, Sansa squeezed lotion into her palms and warmed it up before rubbing it into Joffrey's back. It was then that she caught sight of the Hound starting to take his shirt off.

_Oh, gosh…don't look!_

Yet she did. He was facing away from her, and she stared first at the rippling muscles across his back, and when he turned around, she lowered her eyes to make it not so obvious that she was drinking in the perfection that was the hard planes of his chest and abdominal muscles. He wore plain black board shorts that hung low on his tapered waist, showing a small amount of the V that disappeared below the waistband.

Her hands worked across Joffrey's back, and he was no slouch when it came to exercise so the muscles under her fingers were taut, but she couldn't help thinking that the muscles across the Hound's back would be broader, and firmer still.

She finished with Joffrey, and she then began to apply lotion on herself, allowing Joffrey to return the favor and let him rub lotion into her back. The entire time, she continued to watch Sandor as he rubbed sunblock into his own naturally tanned skin.

She really was a sucker for perfect pecs and abs, and not even her own boyfriend's best friend was off limits to her hungry eyes.

The girls had then pulled Sansa to her feet, and then they had sought one thrill after another, going on just about all the waterslides, and riding inflatable tubes over man-made rapids.

"I dare you to go down _Everest Drop_," Joffrey said to Sandor at one point.

_Everest Drop_ was the tallest waterslide in the park at twelve stories high, with a near vertical drop at the top and boasting ridiculous speeds that made the idea of riding it crazy. She'd seen the twisting panels of translucent fiberglass, and Sansa's heart had palpitated just thinking about it. There was no way she was ever going on that slide.

"I dare you to go down with me," Sandor replied.

Joffrey wasn't about to lose face in front of everyone, and he agreed. Sansa and the others had waited at the foot of the slide while Joff and Sandor climbed to the top, and Sansa held her breath as she watched them both plummet from the enclosed capsules.

She was hooting and hollering with the girls when they reached the bottom, and Sansa saw something that might have been a grin on Sandor's face.

They went back to their towels for a break, and Sansa allowed Joffrey to pull her beside him on the lounger. She was having a fantastic time, and didn't think anything could spoil it.

"Sansa, I've got my parents' riverfront guest house ready for us tonight," Joffrey said to her.

"Really? For dinner, right?"

"Sure, I'll have dinner ready for us when we get there," Joff replied, "But I actually meant we have the place to ourselves…the whole night."

"Oh?"

_Oh!_ The penny dropped, and Sansa tensed up. She panicked, and said the first thing that came to her mind.

"No, I don't think so." _Oh dear, that came out badly._

"What do you mean, _no_?" Joffrey demanded.

His whole demeanor changed with her response. He'd been all smiles and laughs before, and now he was rapidly becoming sullen.

"I'm sorry, Joffrey." Sansa tried again. "I know you must have gone to some trouble to arrange the guest house and all…but I'll have to go home after dinner. I can't stay...later."

"I thought you wanted to be with me," He took both her arms and pulled her to him, unmindful of the fact their friends were only several feet away from them.

"I do, Joffrey," She said, "Please. I don't want to talk about this here."

He ignored her. "Is it your curfew? I told you, you don't have to worry about that. Your father is friends with mine. They won't question why you're with me."

It wasn't that, Sansa thought. It had everything to do with why he wanted her to stay _the whole night_. He hadn't spelled it out, but she could guess.

"What are you afraid of, Sansa?" Joffrey took her chin in his hand, and ran the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.

"I'm not afraid," She lied, "I just need…more time."

"You don't trust me, do you?" His fingers tightened and bit into her skin, before he thrust her aside.

He got up, and Sansa stood up with him.

"Of course I do!" Sansa was consciously aware that Joffrey's agitated stance was attracting the glances of Randa, Jeyne and the Hound. "I'm sorry I disappointed you, Joffrey."

She reached out to tentatively touch his hand, and he shrugged her off. Sansa flinched at his physical rebuke.

"Next time, then." He bit out, but his voice was heavy with disappointment, and something else that she couldn't identify, but recognized as something she should be wary of in future. He stalked away from her.

His attitude, and consequently the rest of the afternoon went downhill from there.

It did not go unnoticed by anyone in the group.

She didn't understand why Joffrey was behaving so badly towards her. It seemed a bit of an overreaction, in her opinion. She couldn't believe that her birthday would deteriorate so quickly, especially with such a promising start.

Perhaps he'd really been looking forward to spending time with her, and she was misreading the situation altogether?

"Are we still having dinner at the guest house?" Sansa asked him quietly when their friends weren't within earshot.

"Forget about it," Joffrey shrugged, "I've lost my appetite."

Jeyne and Randa sensed that something wasn't quite right, and they did their best to distract her for the rest of the afternoon, but Sansa's earlier high had all but disappeared, and the smile she flashed around had none of the sparkle it had before.

Being a Sunday and knowing they had school the next day, they all decided it was time to head home at about half-past-four. In the change rooms, she showered quickly and changed into a pretty floral printed dress, and a light sweater. Her hair had been drying in the sun, and now it hung in its natural waves down her back.

It was at least an hour's drive back into King's Landing, and Sansa wasn't looking forward to a silent ride in the car with Joffrey.

She hugged the girls goodbye and thanked them for a fantastic day, and also for the beauty salon gift vouchers they'd given her, and turned to find Joffrey speaking with the Hound.

"Don't worry, Sansa," Jeyne saw her concern, "I'm sure whatever it is, you'll work it out,"

"Thanks, Jeyne." Sansa smiled at her, "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Okay, and don't forget we have choir practice afterschool."

Jeyne got in the car with Randa, Mya and Lothor who was driving, and Sansa waved as they drove away. Sansa walked back to where Joffrey was standing by his car. The Hound stood nearby, scowling, while Trant kicked at a stone on the ground.

"I'm heading out to Lannisport with Trant," Joff announced, his voice cool, "Hound will take you home."

"What? You're leaving without me?" Sansa could not believe what she had just heard.

"I'm going to try and salvage the rest of my evening." Joffrey stated. "I'll see you at school."

Without another word, let alone a kiss goodbye, Joffrey and Trant got into his Mercedes and drove away, leaving a stunned and disbelieving Sansa alone with Sandor Clegane.

_That did not just happen. _She thought. _He didn't just abandon me, on my birthday._

For a moment, she just stood there in the emptying car park, staring in the direction Joffrey's car had disappeared. She was hurt, confused, and getting angry.

_How dare he?_ She thought. _How dare he behave like a child!_

This was more than merely spoiling Joffrey's plans for the evening. There was something she wasn't understanding…something she wasn't seeing.

"We should get going," Came the rasp of the Hound's voice behind her, and she spun around to face him.

He looked annoyed, and she didn't blame him. She'd be annoyed too if she'd just been told to drive someone else's girlfriend home. It was the second time Joffrey had done this, and both times Sandor had accepted…or obeyed, she wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry," Was all she could say.

He snorted, and unlocked his Mustang.

"Get in," He said, and slid behind the wheel.

Sansa opened her own door and got in beside him, and didn't dwell on what would have happened if Sandor had refused to take her home. The engine started with a loud rumble, and music blared from the stereo. He turned the volume down, before he pulled out of the car park and began the long drive back to King's Landing.

She didn't recognize the music coming from the iPod on the dock attached to his car stereo, but she knew that the iPod was definitely _hers._

Sandor hadn't spoken to her since the day she'd tried to give him back _his_ iPod. She'd had it almost a week and meant to give it back to him sooner, but had never got around to it. She'd finally found him at his locker and asked him to switch them back.

"Don't want it back," He'd rasped. "Think I'll keep the one I've got."

"But, why?" She'd asked. "You don't listen to any of the stuff I listen to."

Of course, she'd checked out his playlist the moment she'd realized whose it belonged to, and their tastes in music couldn't have been more different.

Sandor had given her a mocking, lopsided smile, "Seems it's grown on me."

He'd walked away, and hadn't said a word to her since. That had been four days ago.

It was odd, but the guy was strange all around, and she hadn't pressed it. His iPod was new, and the exact same color and generation as hers, so she used it. She'd ended up leaving all of his music on it, and just added her own.

He had an eclectic taste in music. His most-played list included Jimi Hendrix and Lenny Kravitz. This didn't surprise her, the guy drove a restored Mustang after all. What surprised her was that he also listened to the likes of _Rage Against The Machine_ and _Disturbed_.

She wondered if he'd really kept all of her music because it had _grown on him._

After about half an hour sitting in silence, Sansa grew tired of brooding. It was unfair of Joffrey to do this to her, especially on her birthday. Regardless of how disappointed he was with her, he shouldn't have abandoned her.

The clock on Sandor's dash told her it had just gone five p.m. and her parents would not be expecting her home until nine. She had gotten an extended curfew because it was her birthday. It seemed a waste to go home early, and have to face a smirking Arya who'd had a ball during her own birthday celebrations.

"I don't want to go home yet," She suddenly said. "It's still early."

"I can't drive you around all night, little bird." Sandor said.

"I'm not asking you to drive around."_Why is he calling me that?_

"Then where do you want me to bring you?" He demanded. "It's past five, and I'm starving."

She didn't know where she wanted to go. She just knew she didn't want to go home, and she didn't want to be alone. She knew she was forcing herself on the Hound, but at that moment, even his company was better than being on her own.

_I've gone crazy_.

"So, go and get something to eat." She said, "Just take me with you, wherever it is you're going."

"Damn it, Sansa." He growled.

"Please? I don't care where...just let me come with you."

He was silent for a moment, and she hoped she hadn't pushed him too far. She didn't even know if he considered her a friend.

"Suit yourself." He finally said.

He took the exit back onto Kingsroad Expressway. Jimi Hendrix began to play over the stereo and

Sansa recognized it as _Little Wing._ It seemed she and Sandor now had identical playlists on their swapped iPods.

_"Well she's walking through the clouds …With a circus mind that's running round…" _Jimi began to sing.

_Is that what I've been doing? _She wondered, _walking around with my head in the clouds where Joffrey is concerned?_

Jimi continued to sing about a girl with moonbeams and fairytales in her head, and a thousand smiles to give.

_"Take anything you want from me, anything…"_

_Is that what Joffrey thinks? That he can just take whatever he wants from me, and that I'd let him? _Sansa figured she was probably misconstruing everything about Jimi Hendrix's song, but at that moment, that's what she was hearing.

She wasn't paying attention to where Sandor was driving, so it didn't surprise her that she didn't recognize their surroundings. What did surprise her was _where_ they were. She saw a sign with the name of the suburb they'd just entered.

"River's Edge," She said. "Flea Bottom?"

Sandor shot her a look. "Said you didn't care, remember?"

"I don't," She hastened to say, "What's here?"

"Only the best place to get lemon cakes."He replied, "And real homemade pasta."

"Lemon cakes…" Sansa turned to face him. Did he know that they were her favorite?

"The _best_ lemon cakes," He stated. "Just because people around here don't live in mansions, doesn't mean they don't know how to appreciate good food. I'd say the people here eat almost as well as we do at the other end of the river, only they don't pay as much for a meal."

He pulled into an underground, secured car park, and Sansa waited as he locked his car and made sure the alarm was armed. Then she kept a step behind him as he led her to the elevator.

He'd shrugged a black hoodie over his white t-shirt, and the effect of the bulky fabric was just to make him look larger and more menacing than he already was. She was glad of it, when they were out on the street and people began to clear a path for him immediately.

They walked past a bodega, where a group of guys stood smoking, looking every bit like thugs she'd seen in those bad gangsta movies Arya had made her watch. She instinctively stepped closer to Sandor.

He noticed, and glanced at the guys, making sure they saw his burned face.

"They'd be idiots to try anything around me." He growled.

Sansa looked up at him warily. "These lemon cakes better be worth the risk of getting mugged."

He let out a rough sort of sound that might have been a chuckle. "Don't worry about a few hood rats. I'll chase them off if they get too close."

With fingertips at her back, he led her down the street. Sansa noticed that the path had started to incline and realized they were actually on the cliffs overlooking the mouth of the river where it emptied out into the ocean.

"Come on, this way." The pressure from Sandor's fingertips increased.

Sansa turned her head in the direction he was leading her, and found a steep alleyway that had been cut into the face of the cliff, with steps winding up to only he knew where.

"This is Serpentine Alley," Sandor said for her benefit. "Get moving,"

As they began to climb, Sansa saw that every now and then, they would reach a landing that lead off to a doorway or another alley.

"What's behind the doors?" She turned to him, "Where do the other alleys lead?"

"King's Landing's best kept secrets," He replied. "Little cake stores, restaurants, coffee and tea houses. You won't find food like this around Trident's Bend, or even around Harrenhal."

Looking into the doorways they passed and through glass window fronts, Sansa could see that most of the signs were displayed in both English, and other languages and scripts unfamiliar to her. The interiors and décors were all bright, exotic and vibrant, with the most enticing smells drifting from the entryways.

"Most of these places are owned by migrant families, and are one of a kind." Sandor said.

Sansa gave him a rare, genuine smile. Not the smile she gave people because it was expected, or because she was being polite, but a smile born of simple joy and appreciation.

She loved discovering little hidden gems that no one but the locals knew about.

The abrupt end to her day with Joffrey had taken the most unexpected of turns, and in the most unexpected company.

"Where are we going?" She asked when it seemed they'd passed all the little doorways and alleyways leading from Serpentine Alley.

"The top," He replied, "You like pretty views, don't you?"

She nodded, stunned that he'd remembered. It seemed a long time ago since that night she'd first spoken him in the drawing room at The Red Keep.

Sansa reached the final step, and waited for Sandor to show her where to go next. She was currently facing a stone wall, and there was a breeze coming from her left.

Wordlessly, his fingertips again on the small of her back, he led her down the stone corridor and out into the open air.

"Oh, my…!"

Sansa's gasp was lost to the wind as she took in the view of the indigo ocean beyond, the stone cliffs below her, and the multicolored mish-mash of Flea Bottom's dwellings sprawled along the banks of the river.

The sun was low on the horizon, just about to set, and its orange-gold light bathed everything in a surreal glow.

"This is beautiful, Sandor!" She smiled at him, and he just shrugged and looked as though he didn't care. He'd probably seen this view many times.

She stepped towards the stone safety wall and placed her hands on the sun-warmed railing to take a better look. They were the only two people there, and she was glad of it, but at the same time thought it a shame that not many others would see this view, simply because it happened to be in Flea Bottom.

Beauty really could be found in the most unexpected places, she thought, and she stole a glance at Sandor. She knew he probably did not intend anything of the kind, but he had just gifted her with something very special.

She would never have seen this, if not for him. She would never have had a reason to come to Flea Bottom. Heaven forbid her mother ever found out.

"Can we stay to watch the sunset?" She asked him. "You're not in a rush, right? Oh, but you said you were starving–"

"It's fine. Stay." He still looked bored, but at least he wasn't scowling.

In silence, Sansa watched as the sun disappeared into the inky horizon, and as the last remnants of orange sunlight faded into black. The streetlights below came to life, and the houses by the riverside began to twinkle as lights filtered from doorways and windows. For a few moments, she thought of nothing but the view in front of her, and heard nothing but the ocean and the wind buffeting her face.

Then the silence and darkness stretched overlong, and she became conscious of the silent and even darker figure of Sandor Clegane standing guard behind her.

She turned to face him, and found that he was staring at her.

"What is it?"

"It's getting cold. We should get back down." Was all he said.

Dim LED lights now lit the steps along Serpentine Alley, and Sansa momentarily froze on the spot when she realized how steep the descent really was.

"Want me to go first?" He asked, and at her nod, he stepped in front of her, "Mind your feet."

The descent wasn't as bad as she initially thought, and having the expanse of Sandor's broad back in front of her certainly helped.

About a third of the way down the alley, he turned into one of the smaller lanes and led her into a small restaurant that had been dug into the cliff, like a cave. It was a family owned _trattoria_, simply and comfortably furnished with wooden tables and chairs, white tablecloths and unpretentious tableware.

She assumed all of the cafes and restaurants on Serpentine Alley would all be like Aladdin's caves.

"Hound!" A man in his thirties greeted Sandor at the door with a smile, "You're back again! Just your usual table?"

Sandor moved further into the doorway, revealing Sansa behind him. The man's smile widened in surprise.

"Ah…table for _two_!"

Sandor nodded silenty, while Sansa offered the man a smile as he led them to a table in a corner. The room was small, and the remaining tables nearby were all occupied.

"I'll bring the bread, and tell mama to have two meals ready," He said, before he wondered off into the kitchen.

"Mama! Sandor is here…" He continued the conversation with his mother in Italian.

As the place was small, Sansa was able to hear his mother's responses in the kitchen behind the little counter. She understood a fair amount of Italian, having lived there with her family for eight weeks once when she was about ten, and also thanks to the lessons she'd had at Miss Mordane's.

"…What do you mean he's with a girl? Two years he's been eating here and he's always alone!"

"I'm telling you the truth, mama," Insisted the man, "He's here with a girl…a very beautiful girl!"

"I have to see this for myself." Said mama, "Hand me the bread."

Moments later, she stood smiling at Sansa's shoulder with a basket of bread and a dish of balsamic vinegar and olive oil.

Sansa was blushing at the smile the older woman gave her, and she longed to tell her that this wasn't a date and that she and Sandor were friends, but she didn't know how to do that without giving away that she'd been eavesdropping and had understood every word.

"Too long Sandor has been eating alone," She muttered to herself in Italian, before she spoke again in English to tell them that evening's menu.

Traditional _trattorias_ had no set menu, with the meals served purely dependent on the whim of the cook and seasonal produce available.

Mama served a selection of antipasti to begin with, bringing them a plate of cured hams, cheeses, artichokes and other preserved vegetables. For the main meal, they were served hand rolled pasta with a beef ragout so tender it melted in the mouth.

Every now and then, Sansa would catch Mama, or her son Antonio, looking over at them. Sandor ignored them or did not notice. She thought that maybe he was used to people looking at him, and he'd learned not to pay attention to their stares.

They'd said that the Hound always came alone, and she found that sad. It upset her more, when she combined it with what she knew of him, and his past. She'd thought that getting to know him would mean she would understand him better, but the opposite seemed to be the case with him.

The more she learned, the less she knew.

He didn't say much throughout their meal, not that she'd expected conversation from him. She'd forced her company on him, and while he'd found it in himself to be nice to her so far, she didn't want to push his patience by trying to draw him into conversation he didn't want.

The cave-room was illuminated only by a few sconces affixed to the stone walls, and in the dimness, she found it almost easy, and not so awkward to look at Sandor's face. She'd known him a month, and in that month she'd learned to stop flinching every time she saw his scars.

"Leave room for dessert," He suddenly said, eyeing her nearly empty plate.

"I _always_ have room for dessert." She returned, and finished off her ragout.

He made a face, and she was shocked to think he was actually _smiling_ at her. The burned side of his face didn't look any better for it, but his unburned side was made handsome. And she stared.

"Let's go," He said when they'd finished, and got up. "We have to go further down the Serpentine to get lemon cakes."

Sansa made to reach for her purse to pay for her share, after all they weren't on a date, but he stopped her.

"It's your birthday. Put that away." He growled softly.

She thanked him, and waited as he paid their bill.

"We'll see you again, Hound," Antonio said, "And you, as well, _bella_!"

Sansa was aware of Mama's observant eyes watching her closely as they exited the _trattoria_, and she impulsively reached for Sandor's arm, humoring the older woman. Mama's smile became warmer at this seeming act of affection on Sansa's part.

Sandor had tensed at her touch, but he didn't pull away.

"Are you really that afraid of heights?" He asked, mistaking the reason she had taken his arm.

She had a healthy respect for heights, but she didn't think it an outright fear. Yet she was holding onto him, so she went with it, having no other excuse for her impulsiveness.

"Just cautious," She replied, with genuine embarrassment, as they began to descend the steep alleyway again.

He took her to a little cake shop, full of the most amazing and mouthwatering cupcakes, slices, gateaux and tortes she'd ever seen. How Sandor had ever come across this place was anyone's guess. The décor was quaint, with tea and coffee being served in old fashioned and mismatched china. It was exactly her kind of place.

She grinned as the lemon cakes were placed in front of them. Sansa had asked for tea as well, while Sandor asked for coffee.

"Mmm!" Sansa's noise of pleasure at her first taste of the lemony goodness couldn't be helped, and she noticed the corner of Sandor's mouth twitching. "It's _so_ good, you were right! This is the best lemon cake I've ever had!"

"It's just cake," He grunted.

"You don't understand," She said around a second spoonful of cake, "Lemon cakes are my all-time, last-meal-on-earth, _favorite_ food _ever_."

"Really?"

"Yes," She gave him a look under her lashes, "I…I thought someone might have told you."

Though she couldn't recall telling anyone, and only her family knew of her particular culinary obsession.

Sandor shrugged. "Lucky guess."

At length, Sansa relaxed, and with her belly full of food and her limbs loosened with warm lemony tea, she asked Sandor the question that had been bugging her all afternoon.

"Why did Joffrey really get mad at me today? I know I disappointed him, but I don't understand why he just…left me."  
He stared at her, incredulous. "You're asking _me?_"

"You're his friend." She pointed out.

The scowl that had been absent from his features for most the evening suddenly returned, and she instantly regretted bringing up the topic of Joffrey, but she couldn't take it back now.

"Joffrey hates not getting his way." He stated.

"Did he tell you what happened?"

Sandor nodded warily.

"Why did he get so upset?"

She was making him uncomfortable, she could tell by the way he was shifting in his seat, but she needed to know the answer.

"You really don't know?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I did."

"How can you be so stup–" He stopped himself, "You said yes to dinner, but what did you say no to?"

Sansa went crimson red, appalled and mortified. "You know about _that_? Does he tell you everything?"

"You asked, okay?" He reminded her, "Well, that's the answer."

_Joffrey said he'd wait until I was ready._

"Is he going to stay angry with me for long?"

He was still looking at her like she was crazy, and she supposed she was.

"I don't want to talk about this," He growled, an obvious warning for her to drop the topic.

"You know him best, what should I do?" She insisted.

He swore under his breath, quietly, but she caught most of the filth anyway. He looked at her, and she saw his fists clench.

"Look. In another reality, I'd be telling you to save yourself some pain and give him what he wants...but that would be the worst advice I could give you right now." He rasped darkly.

He let out another expletive, and he leaned forward in his chair. His expression was now guarded, and angry, and had taken on a ferocious quality.

"You want my real advice, Sansa?"

"Yes, that's what I've been asking."

"No, you're asking me to give you the advice _you want to hear_," He corrected her, "Sorry to disappoint you, little bird, but I won't lie to you."

"Then be honest," She whispered.

"My advice is _not_ to give him what he wants." He hissed, "Not if you doubt yourself, or him. Don't give him anything you don't want to give him. Do you understand me?"

She went even redder in understanding.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked, uncertain about his motives, "He's your friend."

"Maybe," He snorted, "But I'm not the one walking around with butterflies and fairytales in my head."

She didn't like the sound of that. He agreed with Hendrix, apparently.

"Do you really want to be with him?" Sandor demanded. "Answer me."

"Yes," Sansa replied automatically, but there was no confidence in her voice.

Sandor fixed her with a hard, piercing stare, and his grey eyes were unfathomable.

"Think about what you just said, Sansa, but don't lie to yourself." He rasped, "And it'd be best if you didn't mention this conversation to Joffrey."

He became silent again, but Sansa did not find it uncomfortable this time.

He took her home, and before he drove away, she turned back to him and leaned in through his window.

"Thank you, Sandor," She said.

"For what?"

"For letting me be your friend."

"_What_?" He looked incredulous.

"It's true," She pressed, despite her nerves. "What you did for me tonight, only a friend would have done something like that. Thank you."

He stared at her for a few long heartbeats, and then he finally nodded.

"Friends."

She smiled at him. "Good night, Sandor. See you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah, goodnight."

Sansa made to walk into her house.

"Little bird," He called out.

She turned back to him. "Yes?"

"Happy birthday."


	9. Episode 9 This Funny Feeling

**Hi everyone! This episode took some time to write, so sorry for keeping you waiting. The 'Birthday Girls' double episode took a lot out of me, and I had to eat lots of ice cream to get my energy back!**

**P.S there a bit of business jargon at the very end of this chapter, so if you don't understand it, don't worry...the really important bits you will understand just fine.**

**Thanks again for all your wonderful and long reviews, I love reading them...as I've said time and again, my creative beast thrives on it!**

* * *

**Episode 9**

"**This Funny Feeling"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Good morning King's Landing peeps! I hope you've all recovered from the weekend. I know that the Starks have definitely had an eventful few days!

The Stark siblings, along with Theon Greyjoy, were spotted at hipster club _The House of Black & White_ on Saturday night, where _The Faceless Men_ were playing. Were you there checking out the caliber of the guys that your friends Gendry 'The Bull' Waters and Beric Dondarrion are up against, Arya? Or, just checking out Jaqen H'ghar?

Joffrey Baratheon was also spotted at nightclub hotspot Lannisport, _minus_ Sansa Stark on Sunday night – correct me if I'm wrong peeps, but wasn't that Sansa's actual birthday? What's going on you two? I hope everything's okay?

In other news about the Baratheon family, I hear congratulations are in order for Myrcella Baratheon – did you all forget about Joffrey's freshman sister? You know, she's this pretty blonde thing with curls, kinda shy and hangs around the performing arts building? Anyway, I've been told she auditioned for, and got accepted into the Dorne Academy of Dance. I hear she will be leaving for Europe shortly. Well done, Myrcella!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Arya**

She'd said yes.

Arya lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about Jaqen H'ghar, while her stomach knotted itself up in anticipation, and also a certain amount of nervousness.

She was going on a date with a boy for the first time.

She'd been out with boys before, but not like this. This wouldn't be like going out with Gendry or Hot Pie. They were her friends and there'd been no expectations for her to be anything other than who she was.

Going on a date with a boy meant something else…something more. It meant she could become someone's girlfriend.

Jaqen's girlfriend.

Arya picked up her pillow, held it over her face and screamed. _Aaaaargh!_

When she removed her pillow, she found Bran standing in the doorway, wearing an amused smile on his face.

"You okay there?" He asked.

"Go away, Bran!" She threw her pillow at him, which he dodged.

"So, you don't want help with your math homework then?" He queried.

Arya groaned. "Yes, I need help!"

_In more ways than one_, she thought.

She rolled off her bed and grabbed her notebook and math textbook. She shoved the algebra equations under Bran's nose, and watched in amazement as her twelve year old brother found _x _and _y_ in about a minute.

"You're a genius," She stated, studying the symbols he'd written down on the notebook, though it may as well have been hieroglyphs.

"So I've been told," Bran yawned, "Can you follow what I've done?"

At her blank expression, Bran sighed and spent the next hour breaking down the equation and the steps she would need to follow to get the right answer. Bran was used to this routine. Both his older sisters had asked him for help with homework and projects numerous times in the past, and his patience seemed never-ending.

"Get it now?"

"Noooo!" Arya dropped her head onto her folded arms.

"Uh…this isn't about algebra, is it?" Bran questioned. "It's to do with why you were screaming into your pillow."

"You don't need to be a genius to work that out." Arya muttered, her voice muffled by her arm.

"No, but I was trying to be a tactful brother and not bring it up." He pointed out, "Sansa was doing the same thing earlier."

"Screaming into her pillow?" Arya looked up at this news. "Do you know why?"

He looked at her like she was crazy. "I know better than to ask."

"I hope she and that dimwit boyfriend of hers had a fight." Arya spat.

Bran raised his brows, in an expression that reminded her of Robb. "If we're done with your homework, I'm gonna leave now."

"No, stay," Arya took a breath and looked into Bran's blue eyes. "A boy asked me out, and I said yes."

Bran immediately looked uncomfortable. "Are you sure you want to talk to me about this?"

She wasn't, but Bran was smart and mature for his years. He was far from being a normal twelve year old boy. Even though she was older, she had never felt like his big sister. Especially not when he'd always stood taller than her, and not when he could converse with their father and Robb about the state of the stock market.

"You're going to talk to me about it, regardless." Bran settled back into his seat, realizing he was about to sail into uncharted waters with Arya. "What's the matter?"

"He's older,"

"How much older?"

"He's eighteen I think, so four years older, and he's a senior."

"Okay…that's not ancient," Arya had thought the same thing, "What else?"

"He's probably way more experienced,"

"I really don't see what advise I can give you," Bran said, "I'm twelve."

Arya sighed. She'd made such a big deal about not being a child anymore, and here she was seeking advice from a twelve year old, and suddenly feeling very much like a little girl.

"Nothing that I tell you gets repeated to anyone, okay?" She said to him fiercely.

"That's a given," Bran's eyes widened. "I know you can choke me out."

"Bran…"

"Sorry," He looked sheepish. "Okay, just spit it out. What's the issue? Don't you like this guy?"

"I do! I do like him," Arya admitted for the first time, "He's really good-looking, and he's a talented musician, and he seems like a really nice guy."

"But?"

"I can't figure out why he wants to go out with me, and I'm afraid I'll screw it up somehow."

"And?" He prompted.

"And then there's Gendry," Arya rubbed her hand over her face in a manner similar to their father. "He kissed me the other night."

"Oh?" Bran said, ears perking up at the scent of a potential love triangle, "Does he like you?"

"I don't know."

"Do you like him, too?"

"I don't know." Arya replied, _but I liked the way it felt when he kissed me._

"I'm not sure what else to say to you, Arya." Bran sighed. "I repeat, I'm twelve, and I know nothing about dating."

"But you know psychology and human behavior, right? Don't you read those kinds of books in your spare time for fun?" Arya got up from her desk, just to throw herself back onto her bed. "Bran, I wouldn't be talking to you if there were anyone else! I don't want to talk to Mom because the thought of me dating freaks her out. I'm definitely not talking to Sansa, and Jon would just get all weird on me."

"And you think this isn't weirding me out?"

"Fine then, don't help me." Arya expected him to leave the room then, but he didn't.

With another sigh, Bran moved from the desk and sat down on the bed beside her.

"Okay, I do read those kinds of books, but it doesn't mean I understand everything in them. So, I guess all I can do is just to ask you a bunch of questions, and maybe it'll help you think things through."

Sitting up, Arya nodded. "Thanks, Bran."

"Why do you think you'll screw things up with this senior guy?"

"Because I've never dated, and I haven't got a clue what I'm doing."

"But he realizes you've just turned fourteen, right?"

"Yes, he knows that all too well." Arya replied, remembering the conversation she'd had with him at the juice bar.

"Is he a smart guy?"

"I think so."

"Then maybe you should give him some credit," Bran suggested, "Maybe he already knows this, and he'll take things slowly."

Arya's mouth dropped a little at the logic behind Bran's words, remembering more of her conversation with Jaqen.

"_A little girl becomes a young woman." _

_ "I wasn't a little girl…not when you met me."_

_ "And I was always aware…though, you mistook my meaning."_

_ "What was your meaning, then?"_

_ "Just that you are young and inexperienced…but I do not see you as a child."_

Jaqen had already acknowledged her inexperience. Perhaps Bran was onto something! She smiled at her brother.

"You're good at this, keep going!"

"Okay," He said, encouraged. "You said before that you didn't know why he wanted to go out with you. Um…well, I guess only he would know the answer to that, so maybe you could just ask him."

"Would he give me an honest answer?"

"If he's a decent guy, he will." Bran said simply.

"Good point."

"So, onto your friend Gendry," Bran scratched his head, "You said he kissed you, but you don't know if he likes you, or if you like him…hmmm."

"It was just a peck, really." Arya said, "A quick one, and he kissed me because it was my birthday."

"Oh." Bran scratched his head again. "Did he ever do anything before to make you think he might like you? How does he act around you?"

"Um…He's never made a move on me, if that's what you mean. Mostly, he just got kind of protective, the way Jon gets."

"Oh." Bran said again. "Has anything happened since he kissed you? Does he treat you any differently?"

Arya hadn't noticed anything different in Gendry's behavior since the night he kissed her. Although, they hadn't really spent much time together over the week, as Gendry had been going to practice with Beric and the band pretty much every day after school in preparation for the competition.

"I haven't noticed any change," She finally said.

"Okay, so have you ever thought of dating him?" Bran prompted.

"No," Arya replied. "I haven't thought of him like that."

"_Could_ you think about him in that way?"

Arya shrugged, but inwardly, she realized it wouldn't be hard to see him that way. After all, Gendry was hot, and he was thoughtful and sweet...when he wasn't being stupid.

"It…it would make things different," She admitted. "He's my friend, and I don't think I want that to change."

"Then, I think we've reached some kind of resolution." Bran stated.

"Which is?"

"From what you've just told me, it sounds like you're into this senior,"

"What about Gendry?"

Bran shrugged. "You haven't told me anything to suggest that he might want to be more than friends, and maybe the kiss he gave you was platonic."

"So, it might have just been me who felt something?"

"Maybe," Bran started looking uncomfortable again, "In any case, you just said you didn't want things to change between you and Gendry. To me, that means you don't want to date him."

"Are you always so logical?"

"I have to be. I have no experience," Bran then looked at Arya sharply, "Arya, please don't make any decisions based only on what I've just said."

"Of course I won't," She said.

"Good," Bran stood up, "Anyway, I think I'll leave now before this gets any weirder."

As Bran left her room, Arya questioned her wisdom in discussing such a personal matter with her younger brother. When it came down to it, she was as inexperienced as Bran when it came to relationships.

Given the turmoil inside her head, she had to admit that Bran's objective and logical insight did help to put things into perspective for her.

Without a doubt, she was crushing on Jaqen H'ghar, and the thought of going on a date with him was making her giddy. He hadn't told her when or where as yet, but she knew he wasn't the type to leave a girl hanging – unlike what she'd done to him.

At the same time, the memory of her reaction to Gendry's kiss was confusing her.

Perhaps she was just making a big deal out of it because he was the first boy, outside of her family, to ever kiss her.

He was a good friend, probably her best friend, if she really thought about it. She didn't find it easy to make friends, and if she lost Gendry's friendship – the thought upset her, so she made herself push it out of her mind.

Her phone rang, making her jump, and Jaqen's name appeared on the display. Arya's heart suddenly began to skip, and her hand shook as she answered the call.

"Hello," She said, way too breathily for her liking.

"Hey there, lovely girl," Jaqen's molten caramel voice travelled over her, making her skin tingle from head to toe. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Arya sat up against her pillows, "And you?"

"Very well," He replied. "I hope I haven't called you at a busy time?"

"No, actually I was just finishing some homework." She released a breath, "I…uh, I was expecting that you'd call."

"I expected you might have been," He chuckled, "I hope I did not keep you waiting long!"

Arya heard the teasing note in his voice, and she was glad he couldn't see her blushing. "Not at all,"

"Lovely girl," Jaqen began, "I called because I wanted to see if you are free this Saturday?"

_So soon,_ she thought, but she'd been expected that, too.

"I am, yes." She replied,

"Perfect. Is 10 a.m. too early?"

"That sounds fine," She replied. "Will you be coming to pick me up?"

"Of course,"

"I suppose you already know where I live, right?"

"You suppose correctly,"

"Okay, then." She licked her suddenly dry lips, "I guess I'll see you this Saturday, at ten."

"Just so," Jaqen murmured, and Arya imagined that half-smile gracing his lips, "I look forward seeing you, sweet girl."

* * *

**Sansa**

She lay on her stomach with her face buried into her pillow, screaming into it. She took a breath, and then screamed again.

She didn't know what she was going to do about Joffrey. He'd been apologizing to her all week so far for behaving so badly towards her, and for having ditched her on her birthday. She'd gone to school on Monday fully prepared to stay mad at him, but he'd found her first, spouting apologies and regrets and carrying a bouquet of flowers. He'd brought her flowers everyday that week so far, in an attempt to get back into her good graces.

Joffrey had done this in public, within view of everyone, and Sansa had felt obliged to appear to forgive him.

"Aww…" Jeyne and the cheerleaders had said, "How can you stay mad after such a public apology?"

None of the words she's wanted to say to him ever made it past her lips. She'd wanted to tell him off for ruining her birthday, and for palming her off to Sandor. But she hadn't.

Thanks to Sandor, her birthday hadn't been ruined. A part of her did not regret that Joffrey had abandoned her, and it was this part that was causing her bewilderment.

Was it wrong that she had ended up having a great time with her boyfriend's best friend?

Try as she might, she couldn't imagine that she would have enjoyed herself as much if the dinner Joffrey had planned had gone ahead. She also tried imagining that it had been Joffrey who had taken her to Mama and Antonio's _trattoria_, but she couldn't picture it, and in any case Joffrey wouldn't be caught dead slumming it in Flea Bottom.

Having had a few days to think back on it, she couldn't _believe_ she'd forced her company on the Hound, or that he'd let her tag along.

_I really must have been out of my mind_, Sansa thought.

She certainly hadn't forgotten who he was, or the rumors about what he'd supposedly done, but at the time, her anger with Joffrey had eclipsed the wariness she normally felt around Sandor.

_I am still wary of him, aren't I? _

Sansa pictured Sandor's large intimidating form in her mind, as well as his face that both attracted and repelled her.

He remained no less intimidating, but she no longer felt the fear she'd been carrying since the rumors about him supposedly beating up Arya's friend had surfaced. She still didn't know if there was any truth to those rumors, but the more time she spent around him, the less likely it seemed that he would hurt someone without reason or provocation.

They were supposed to be friends now.

Sansa made a face at that. Her definition of _friend_ was clearly different to his. Sandor hadn't said more than a handful of words to her at school during the week. The scowl was back on his face, although it appeared he didn't scowl at her quite so much as he had before.

She found it hard to believe that the Sandor she saw at school around Joff and the rest of his football teammates was the same guy that had taken her to Serpentine Alley and eaten lemon cakes with her, and given her advice about Joffrey.

Sansa sighed and rolled over so that she could switch off her bedside lamp. She tried to go to sleep, but her indecision about her relationship with Joffrey made it impossible for her mind to rest.

As Sandor had told her, she didn't mention their conversation to Joffrey, or the fact she'd had dinner with Sandor for that matter. Not that Joffrey had asked her about how she'd spent the rest of her birthday. He didn't want to talk about that day at all, and that bothered her.

Jeyne and Randa had asked what had happened, especially after they'd seen the Gossip Spyder's post, but Sansa had just assured them that it was a small misunderstanding and that everything was fine. She didn't tell them about going to Serpentine Alley with Sandor either. She didn't think they would believe her anyway.

She must have fallen asleep eventually, but when her alarm went off at seven o'clock the following morning she was still tired, and far from a chirpy mood. Luckily, it was Friday, and the weekend was just around the corner.

It was also lucky that Arya had already gone to school with her friend Hot Pie, and Sansa had her father to herself during the car ride to school.

"I understand that you and your sister are still not on speaking terms," Her father said, "Is that correct?"

Sansa winced. "That's correct, father. It's not going to change anytime soon."

"Hmm," Eddard gave his oldest daughter a sideways glance, and fixed his eyes back on the road. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but whatever, or whoever this feud is about, I hope it's worth the price of your relationship with your sister."

Those words from her father had made her feel a whole lot worse, and seeing Joffrey waiting for her at the gate with yet more flowers did nothing to improve her frame of mind.

"Thanks, Joffrey. They're beautiful." Sansa accepted the flowers politely along with his kiss.

"I'm glad you like them," He said.

"Hey, is your sister here already?" Sansa asked him, "I was hoping to congratulate her personally about getting into the Dorne Academy of Dance."

"Yeah, she's at the performing arts building, where she always is." He sounded indifferent.

"Aren't you proud of her?" She wondered at his lack of enthusiasm, "Dorne Academy is right up there with The Jiulliard School."

Joffrey shrugged. "She's just dancing, it's not like she's doing anything useful."

Sansa chose to keep her comment to herself. She hated to ask him what he thought of her singing in the choir.

"She'll be leaving for Europe soon. Won't you miss her?"

"Maybe, I guess." He shrugged again, "All I know is my mother and little brother have been blubbering since they found out that Myrcella had been accepted. Mother's planning a going away party for her."

"Well, that sounds nice," Sansa said, glad that at least one of Myrcella's brothers would miss her. "I'll have to make sure I see her at lunch."

"Suit yourself,"

He walked her to her locker, as he'd done all week, before he left for his homeroom class. Sansa left the flowers in her locker and sighed. She'd been dating him a few weeks, and he'd never been this attentive to her before. She wondered if the Gossip Spyder's post questioning the state of their relationship had anything to do with his new devotion to her.

Sansa went to her morning classes, English and Social studies, and it felt like the longest morning ever. Then there was a twenty minute mid-morning break which passed in the blink of an eye for her. Her next classes were Math and P.E, and by the time she'd changed out of her gym gear back into her normal clothes, she'd had enough.

She went to the cafeteria for lunch and grabbed a sandwich, but when she headed out to the quad and saw that Joffrey, Sandor and the others were already there, she decided she didn't have the energy to paste a smile on her face anymore.

So Sansa turned back around and went to find Myrcella Baratheon. The freshman was notoriously shy, and the fact she'd gotten into a performing arts school seemed completely at odds with the girl's personality, and yet Sansa knew from experience that being on a stage often brought out the quietest of people from their shells.

"Hi, Sansa!" Myrcella beamed at her when she saw her.

"Hi, Myrcella!" Sansa liked Joffrey's sister, as the girl had always been lovely towards her and seemed genuinely happy that Sansa was dating her brother. "I wanted to congratulate you on getting into the Dorne Academy, Joffrey didn't say anything to me about it and I had to find out from the Gossip Spyder."

Myrcella made a face, "Joffrey's never understood why I dance, so that doesn't surprise me."

"I wish I could see you dance before you go," Sansa said wistfully.

"Well, you're in luck," Myrcella beamed, "We're doing a lunch-time workshop today, so you're just in time, if you'd like to stay and watch."

Sansa stayed and watched and saw for herself Myrcella's talent. She had a moment of regret then that she hadn't gotten to know Joffrey's sister sooner.

"My mom's throwing a going away party for me, and I'd really like it if you'll be there." Myrcella said after the workshop.

"Of course I'll be there," Sansa replied, and not just because Joffrey would insist on her going.

Sansa had History and Spanish to look forward to after lunch, but as she was heading to her History class, her feet took her in an entirely different direction.

She was skipping classes for the afternoon, she decided. _Now, where should I go?_

She found herself back at the now empty quad. It was a nice day out, and she wouldn't have minded staying outside to enjoy the sunshine, but someone would see her and she'd get into trouble. She was currently standing by a pressed metal picnic bench under a tree, one of the tables furthest from the main entrance.

Sansa then recognized which tree she was under, and an _undeniably_ _crazy_ thought popped into her head.

She'd seen Arya hiding in the branches of this tree some weeks before. _How hard could it be?_ Sansa wondered. She hadn't climbed a tree since she was probably six years old – before she realized that ladies didn't climb trees.

She made sure that her tote bag was zipped, before she climbed onto the pressed metal picnic table. She got a firm grip on the lowest branches that she could reach, then hauled herself up, with only a little bit of effort. Not looking down, she kept climbing into the dense branches, until she found a perch that looked secure enough for her to sit on. Surprisingly, with her back pressed against the trunk of the tree, it was reasonably comfortable.

Wrapping her leg and elbow around nearby branches, she took out her – and she considered it hers now – iPod and selected her favorite chill-out list.

Unless someone had seen her climb it to begin with, no one would know she was hidden amongst the leaves. No one would find her there, unless she called out to them.

Perhaps Arya had had the right idea.

She'd sit here and enjoy the afternoon and come down just before classes ended for the day, so as not to risk anyone witnessing her climbing down from the tree. She smiled to herself.

Sansa had not planned on enjoying her quiet time a little too much, so much in fact that she forgot the time. She was snapped out of her chilled-out state only when she heard the loud pinging of the school bell signaling the end of school.

"Oh…shit!" Sansa rarely swore, but she did then. _Crap!_

She would now have to wait until all the students had filed out of the school building before she could even attempt to come back down. In the meantime, she hoped people didn't dawdle or linger too long in the quad.

The _White Knights_ were on a bye so they didn't have a game that night, but Joffrey would be expecting to go out as they didn't often have Friday nights free. He would go looking for her soon, she thought.

She had to wait a good fifteen minutes before she felt it was safe to attempt to try to get down. She hadn't seen a student pass through the quad in some minutes. Sansa tucked her iPod back into her bag and unhooked her elbow from around the branch…and looked down.

_Bad idea!_

She knew it had definitely been a bad idea the second she looked down and realized just how high up she'd climbed. Her muscles locked up, and her fingernails dug into the branch deeper.

And then she heard male voices approaching.

"Where the hell could she be?" Asked a guy that was unmistakably Joffrey. "I texted Myrcella and she said Sansa had definitely been with her at lunch."

"Have you texted Sansa?" Came the deep, rasping voice of Sandor Clegane.

"Oh, yeah," Joff laughed, "Why didn't I think of that."

_Oh, no!_ Sansa thought, and seconds later she heard the muffled chimes of her message tone coming from her bag. _I hope they didn't hear that!_

As quietly as she could, Sansa snuck her phone from her bag, and sent a reply back to Joffrey's; "W_here are you?_"

"Bathroom. Meet you at the student lot."

_Go! Please, go!_

"She'll meet us at the lot. Coming, Hound?" Joff turned to Sandor.

"I'll catch up. I forgot something at my locker."

She heard Joff's footsteps on the pavement, and she caught a flash of his blond head through the leaves as well, and yet Sandor made no move to head back inside the building.

Instead, he sauntered towards the tree where she was clinging for her life.

"So, you've sprouted wings have you, little bird?" He said to no one, not bothering to look up, and just loud enough for her to hear.

_Shit! _Sansa thought, _he heard my phone, _but still she didn't speak.

"You can come down now, he's gone." He continued, finally looking up. "How'd you get up so high?"

She was wondering the same thing, but she only managed to make a noise like a squeak, and she wobbled precariously on her perch.

"Come on, get down before you break that pretty little neck of yours." He rasped, sounding amused.

She didn't move, she couldn't, and she just looked at him helplessly.

He scowled then, "You're stuck, aren't you?"

She nodded quickly and looked away in embarrassment as her face flamed almost the same shade as her hair.

Sandor Clegane was suddenly laughing. "Ah, you're a stupid little bird!"

He stepped closer to the base of the tree and looking up, he gave her what might have been a look of encouragement, but more resembled a snarl.

"Throw your bag down first," He instructed, and he set it down on the picnic table when she'd dropped it into his hands, "Now move slowly, one foot first, then your arm. Grab that branch beneath you."

"I can't," She managed to say. "I'll fall."

"Then I'll catch you if that happens," He replied, in a tone that didn't encourage her trust at all. "Move it, little bird, I haven't got all day and you don't want to keep Joffrey waiting too long."

She stewed a second longer, before she did as he told her and slowly moved her leg, feeling for the branch below her.

"That's it...now your left hand." Sandor instructed.

Inch by inch, Sansa lowered herself down, and thought she was doing well...until she caught a glimpse of the ground which still seemed miles below her and she froze again. In reality she probably wasn't more than eight feet off the ground.

"For fuck's sake!" Sandor growled, "Jump, I'll catch you."

"No! I'll break an ankle or something!" She cried in alarm, watching as the burned side of his mouth twitched in annoyance.

"Should have thought of that _before_ you climbed the damned tree. Why would someone who's afraid of heights climb a fucking tree?" He held his arms up toward her, and with his spectacular height advantage, safety was suddenly much closer, "Jump."

Sansa remembered how she'd grabbed his arm at Serpentine Alley, and he'd believed it was because she was afraid of heights. Maybe she was, after all.

"You won't let me fall?" She said uncertainly, even as she released her grip on a branch to reach for one of his outstretched hands.

"Not if I can help it."

He caught her hand, and Sansa closed her eyes as she leapt from the branch, her momentum sending her crashing right into his chest as he tugged on her hand. His other arm caught her around her waist. She felt nothing but hard muscle under her palms, and her breasts flattened against the front of him as she slid down his torso.

Relief rushed through her when she felt solid ground under her legs, and she sagged against him for a second. She was safe.

She then opened her eyes as a funny feeling set her stomach quivering, and she stared at the grey cotton that covered his chest, trying to figure out what it meant. Then she remembered in whose arms she was in and pulled away.

She looked up at him, face flaming again. "Thank you."

He snorted, "Stupid little bird."

She ignored his comment. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Why the hell were you up in the tree to begin with?"

"I…I just…"

She couldn't think of any reason that didn't sound stupid, but he must have seen something in her look, because he relented.

"Fine, no one will hear it from me."

"Thank you," She said again.

"Run along now," Sandor rasped, "Don't keep your boyfriend waiting."

* * *

**Jaqen**

Jaqen drove his red Jeep Wrangler up to the gates of Chateau Maegor and found Arya already there, waiting for him. She was wearing a dress of dark blue cotton, with short sleeves and a short hemline. He almost expected to see her wearing sneakers or boots, but he was pleasantly surprised to see she'd worn some kind of black-leather sandals, ornamented with silver studs and buckled at her ankles.

Her purple-tipped hair was hanging loose upon her shoulders, and a leather cuff enclosed one of her wrists, while a small messenger bag was dangling off her arm. She looked perfect, in Jaqen's opinion. Pretty, without being cutesy like a lot of girls her age seemed to dress, and without trying too hard.

He quickly got out of his car and opened her door for her, much to her surprise. He smiled at her. He would do things properly today.

"Good morning," He greeted her.

"Hi Jaqen,"

She returned, smiling at him, causing his stomach to flutter. She was checking him out, just as he had done to her. He wore denim jeans and a sky blue, ribbed cotton longsleeve shirt that he wore with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He kept fit by swimming, rock-climbing and hiking, and he could tell that she appreciated his tall and lean physique as much as he appreciated her petite proportions.

For some weeks now, he had been wondering how it would feel to hold Arya in his arms properly. The memory of how she had fallen into his lap that first time they had met would often replay in his mind, and he imagined that he would be able to wrap his arms around her without a problem. She was so small, and this triggered all kinds of protective instincts in him.

On closer inspection of her, he found that she was wearing a gold butterfly pendant around her neck that he hadn't noticed before.

"That's beautiful," He said, gesturing to it as she stepped up into the Wrangler's passenger seat.

"Thanks," She said, "My father gave it to me for my birthday."

Jaqen closed the door after her and went back around to slide himself behind the wheel.

"That's right, I never did get to wish you a happy birthday." He said as he began to drive, "Many happy returns, Arya."

"Thanks," She said again, glancing at him. "Has anyone ever told you that you don't talk like a normal teenager?"

"That is because I am not a normal teenager," He replied simply, "And, I have an accent."

She laughed, "Trust me, it's not the accent!"

"No?"

"No, Jaqen," She repeated, and he decided he liked how she said his name, softening the 'J' sound. "Sometimes you just speak like someone from another time."

"Is that bad?" He gave her a quick, questioning glance.

She shrugged. "I…I like it, actually."

His stomach began to flutter again. _I wonder what else you might like about me, sweet girl._ He would enjoy finding out, and if she would let him, he would very much like to show her what he liked about her.

"Where are we going?" She asked him.

"We are going to the Narrow Sea Wildlife Park & Aquarium," Jaqen replied, and took the exit onto the Kingsroad Expressway.

"Really? Wow!" Arya all but twisted in her seat. "I like sea lions, so we have to see the sea lions!"

"Then we will," He grinned at her.

The prospect of seeing sea lions had excited her, and consequently seemed also to put her at ease. Jaqen knew that she was inexperienced at dating, even if he hadn't read the Gossip Spyder's posts to confirm it. Arya had just turned fourteen, and he was mindful of that.

He was eighteen, and he'd dated his fair share of girls since he was about thirteen. Sometimes he had been the one to pursue them, other times it was he that had been pursued, and almost always the girl would be the same age or only a year or two younger.

He had seen Arya the moment she had walked into The Hollow to watch the auditions, and had observed her quietly from across the room. The chatter around her had started almost as soon as she had arrived, and he looked because he'd been curious about the Starks. At first he'd seen only a young freshman girl with a pretty face.

He'd then found her enthusiasm and the expressions on her face as she'd cheered for her friend Gendry amusing to behold, so he'd kept watching. She'd neared his table as she'd watched the tie-breaker round, and he'd been able to observe her features at fairly close range.

He'd been watching as well, when he'd noticed someone run into her and as she'd fallen, which was how he'd been able to reach her so quickly to pull her into him. His protective instinct had been ticking even then.

She'd turned her face up to him and her gray eyes had locked with his own hazel eyes, and at that moment it hadn't mattered that she was a freshman.

He would have tried to ask her for her number that first day, if only she'd shown him the slightest bit of interest. However, she'd barely been civil to him, especially after he'd refused to let her go immediately.

He'd been thankful for every encounter with Arya that Fate had seen fit grant him, but the price it seemed, was that Jaqen would have to work hard for Arya's favor.

Jaqen kept conversation light as he drove to their destination, and he found out little things about her, like her favorite color (purple) and the kinds of foods she preferred. The kind of things one expected to learn on a first date.

They reached Narrow Sea Wildlife Park & Aquarium, and Jaqen paid their admission fee. They spent some time wondering around the tropical fish aquariums, where he asked her about her family, and she told him about her brothers and only sister.

"You saw my older brothers at the _House of Black & White_ the other night," Arya began. "Jon's the dark haired one who looks like me, he's the eldest though technically he's my half-brother…"

"Half-brother?" Jaqen asked.

Arya sighed. "Yes. My father took him in after Jon's mother died. Apparently my father was dating a woman back when he was still in college, and they were supposed to have broken up when he got together with my mother. My parents had a whirlwind romance and married soon after they met. Jon's mother apparently called my father just after the wedding and told him she'd had Jon, but that she was ill and wanted my father to take Jon after she was gone."

"That surely must have come a surprise to your father," Jaqen observed the wistful expression on her face.

"And for my mother," Arya agreed, "Imagine, she was pregnant with Robb, when she was told she was going to be step-mother to her husband's child by a woman she'd never heard about. Father, dearest dad of mine, hadn't bothered telling mother about his ex-girlfriend before they got married."

"How was your brother's relationship with your mother?"

"Unpleasant, I'm embarrassed to say." Arya sighed, "My mother is on the committee of about a dozen charities, and yet she's never been charitable to Jon. I think she takes her resentment out on Jon, because she can't take it out on my father."

"That is regrettable…and yet I envy your brother."

"Oh?"

"It is true," Jaqen said. "Your father took him in, against the wishes of his wife, and gave him his name and his love. He also has brothers and sisters like you who clearly adore him."

"Jon's the best brother," Arya smiled, "Don't get me wrong, Robb's awesome, but he knows that he'll never get me the same way Jon does. Did I tell you that Jon bought me a guitar for my birthday?"

"You didn't, but Syrio told me about your Hummingbird that you call _Needle_."

"He told you? Well, I guess I should call him about booking some guitar lessons."

"How about taking some lessons with me?"

She gaped at him, "Oh, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"No?" Jaqen felt a little wounded by her comment. "Why is that?"

"Because, I wouldn't learn anything!" Arya's cheeks turned pink, "…such a distraction!"

Jaqen laughed, and Arya bounded ahead of him to go and look at the penguin enclosures. He followed after her, and when caught up with her he now felt confident enough to take her hand in his. She didn't pull her hand away, but twined her fingers with his instead.

"What about you?" She asked him as they watched little Adelie penguins dive into the water. "What's your family like?"

"Well, my family consists of just my aunt, Umma I call her, and my uncle Otto. They raised me. I cannot remember my parents."

"I'm sorry," She looked up at him, "What happened?"

"We were in a car accident when I was a toddler, I survived and they didn't. My mother was Umma's sister, and I went to live with Umma and my uncle after the accident. Despite the rocky start to my life, I did have a happy childhood. Uncle Otto taught music at an academy back home, and as soon as I was old enough he put different instruments in my hands. Ten years ago, we had the opportunity to immigrate here, so we did. Uncle and Umma took over the running of the _House of Black & White_, and the rest is history."

"Your family owns the _House of Black & White_?" Arya raised her brows.

"Yes," He smiled at her shocked expression, "What is it, sweet girl?"

"Do you play there every weekend?"

"Almost every weekend," He admitted, "Believe me though, Uncle Otto would not let me onto that stage if I were not good at what I do."

"I believe you. I've seen you play, remember?" Arya blushed again, "What possessed you to write that song about me, Jaqen H'ghar?"

"Ah, _that_ song…I never actually intended for you to hear that," He admitted sheepishly.

"That's not how it seemed," She pouted, "Go on, I'm waiting for an explanation."

"Lovely girl, you kept a man waiting for over a week!" Jaqen squeezed her fingers and pulled her to his side, "I wrote it to release some anxiety, its' how I express myself best."

"Anxiety? Jaqen, I really am sorry for keeping you waiting so long for an answer."

"It does not matter now," He gazed down at her, "As long as you are not sorry for saying yes."

She squeezed his fingers back. "No, I'm not sorry."

They saw the sea otter exhibit next, and the dolphin show, and then lastly the sea lions that Arya had been longing to see. Jaqen took pictures of her getting to touch one, and when they'd seen enough, they ate a late lunch at a bistro by the marina.

Jaqen had meant to keep their first date strictly during daylight hours, just to make sure Arya was at ease. She'd always seemed unusually jumpy around him before, but so far she'd shown none of the reservations she'd had the previous times they'd met.

They went for a walk around the marina, and Arya continued to let him hold her hand. Jaqen wondered about kissing her, but he was encouraged by how well the day had played out, and something told him that she wouldn't pull away if he tried.

He pulled her to a stop when they reached a fairly secluded section of the jetty they were walking along, and he leaned against the wooden railing, looking down into her face. Her breathing changed, and the hand he held suddenly grew clammy.

_She knows what I am about to do._

"You're going to kiss me, aren't you?" She asked quietly.

Jaqen nodded, "If you would let me."

She took a second to decide. Then she looked up at him, and her grey doe-eyes told him that she wanted him to. She stepped closer to him.

Without a word, and hoping that his fingers didn't tremble, Jaqen pulled her to him by the hand he already held. He raised his other hand to her face and tilted her chin with his fingers, then he lowered his head, seeing her close her eyes just before he placed his lips firmly over hers.

She sighed against his lips, and Jaqen increased the pressure of his kiss just enough to cause her to part her lips. He flicked out his tongue briefly, enough to taste her lips.

_Hold back_, he told himself, _don't frighten her._

With a small groan, he lifted his head from hers, and he was glad that he hadn't insisted on more. She was flushed, and her eyes were suddenly wide open. She licked her lips then, and Jaqen met her eyes.

"Next time, Jaqen," She began, her voice breathy. "Next time, I get to choose what we do on our date."

He smiled at her, "Just so."

* * *

**Eddard**

"What do you know of it, Ned?" Robert glared at him from across the large, leather-topped mahogany desk in Robert's office, "What has that blasted bean-counter been saying?"

"Petyr Baelish hasn't told me anything I'm not already aware of, Robert." Ned replied, "And though you might dislike the man, you can't deny that he is an excellent accountant."

"Just get to the point, Ned," Robert bit out, "I haven't got all fucking day!"

"How much in debt are you to Tywin Lannister?"

"That's got nothing to do with this joint-venture, so I don't understand why my debt to my fucking father-in-law has anything to do with it."

"_Baratheon Incorporated_ and _Stark Industries_ are the two largest privately owned steel manufacturing companies in the country, in case you forgot, and I know for a fact that Tywin has a seat on your Board of Directors."

"Get to the point, Ned." Robert's face was getting redder, and his extra chin wobbled.

"This joint-venture stands to make you a lot of money personally, not just the company." Ned stated, "How much does Tywin stand to make? Are you doing all of this just to make his money back? I want to know how much you _really_ owe the Lannisters!"

"What the hell does it matter?" Robert demanded. "You stand to make a fortune out of this too!"

"I have money, Robert. I didn't need to do this." Ned said, "I agreed to go into this venture with you because I wanted to help you. The least you can do is tell me the truth."

"Fine, I'll tell you the whole mess of it, but you're not going to like it."

Ned paced the floor in front of Robert's desk as his oldest friend told him of things he already knew; that Robert's company had been suffering from cash-flow problems for some time, and in the past Robert had loaned the company money, but then his own cash had started to run low, and he'd gone to his father-in-law to borrow the money. Sometimes the company would do well and he'd recoup everything, only to have to sink money in again the next month.

The company's books would only show money coming in as a loan from the Director, but not where the Director was getting that money from.

"This joint-venture is a cash cow, Ned." Robert said, "If all goes to plan, this could answer my immediate cash-flow issues, while it will give _Baratheon Incorporated_ the chance to recover, and a chance for Petyr Baelish to get finances back in order. Not to mention, it'll get Tywin out of my hair!"

"That's a hell of a list of things you want to get out of this, Robert." Ned said darkly, "There's a lot at stake here."

"I know…" Robert sighed, "Which is why I think we need a third partner."

Ned stared at him silently for a long moment, thinking about what he'd just said. A third partner.

"You've already got someone in mind, haven't you?"

"I have, and I know you might not like it."

"In as much as we're being honest here," Ned said, "Humor me, and pretend I'm going to be understanding about this. Who is it?"

"Mace Tyrell."

"Right."

"Told you that you wouldn't like it."

Ned sighed. "Can we re-schedule this for the morning? I've had a gutful."

"Fine," Robert agreed, then he leaned back in his seat. "I've got a question for you, in as much as we are being honest today."

"What is it?"

"I want you to tell me what you know about my boy," Robert turned and gave him a wearied look.

"Joffrey?" Ned frowned.

"No, Ned." Robert shook his head, "My real son…Gendry Waters."


	10. Episode 10 Troubled Waters

**Hey guys! Here it is - another dose for you fanfic crack addicts! I know I'm usually spot on with my editing, but it's 2am where I am, and I've re-written parts of this again and again because I wanted it perfect for you guys...I hope you'll forgive me this once if my usuall attention to detail is somewhat lacking...I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer!**

**To 'mrm' - you're very clever...let me know if this episode is close to your prediction!**

* * *

**Episode 10**

"**Troubled Waters"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Well, hello everyone!

It definitely looks like those rumors around Arya Stark and Braavos Academy senior, and _The Faceless Men_ frontman, Jaqen H'ghar are proving to be true – the two were spotted together at the Narrow Sea Wildlife Park & Aquarium on the weekend…holding hands! What do we think, peeps? Are they definitely dating, or just testing the waters? See the pictures for yourself!

The countdown to the Battle of The Bands will begin soon! I here there are going to be some pretty spectacular bands entering this year. In addition to our own _Brotherhood Without Banners_ and _The Faceless Men_, the current list of entrants on the organizers website includes all-girl punk rockers the _Silent Sisters_, and a new entrant calling themselves _Wildlings_. I have a feeling this year's comp will be epic!

Okay, now for something serious and totally different to what I normally post - the headline on this morning's _King's Landing Herald News_ read that there was some trouble surrounding the _Baratheon Inc. & Stark Ind._ joint-venture – I don't understand all of what was said, but I'm only mentioning it here because most of us at this school have parents employed at Baratheon Inc. There was something about possible losses of jobs at Baratheon Inc. – let's hope this is only a minor setback and that this will all be sorted out soon!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Gendry**

_Today's the day_, he decided. _I'll ask her first thing when I see her today._

It was Monday morning, and he was well rested, and though he thoroughly enjoyed being in the band, he was glad he didn't have band practice that afternoon. Much as he liked Beric, the guy could be a total fanatical pain when it came to his music.

He wanted to spend some time with Arya. He'd been too caught up with band stuff and preparing for the _Battle_ that he'd barely seen or spoken to her over the past week.

He sent her a text message asking her if she wanted a ride to school, before he went to shower and get ready. He was expecting a text back from her saying yes, so he was surprised when she replied that she already had a ride, and that she'd see him at school. Slightly disappointed that he'd have to wait a bit longer to see her, he finished dressing and fixing his hair.

Thinking about what he was going to do, he couldn't help but grow nervous. He'd been surprised at how easy, and how natural it had felt to kiss her. The look on her face when he'd pulled back had been promising as well.

He'd have acted much sooner, but he'd been psyching himself up all week, and planning what he'd possibly do if she said yes…and what he'd do if she said no. In the end, he had to take the risk. He was certain that Arya liked him enough to at least give him a chance. If not, he was sure they could go back to being friends.

His phone buzzed, and thinking it was Arya changing her mind, he quickly picked it up to read the text message. It was from Hot Pie.

"Dude, u seen da Spyder's post dis morning yet?"

So Gendry opened a browser on his smart phone, and logged onto the Gossip Spyder's site.

What he found there made all the blood in his veins go cold first, then hot, in anger and disappointment.

_No_, he thought. _This can't be right._

He saw the photos, and another wave of disappointment, and now jealousy washed over him.

It was there, plain for him and everyone to see. Arya was holding hands with Jaqen H'ghar.

They had been at the _Aquarium_, and there was no denying that it had been a date.

_I'm too late._

Gendry felt so stupid. The Gossip Spyder had been right all these weeks. There was a reason Jaqen and Arya were constantly being spotted together, but he'd believed Arya when she'd denied her involvement with Jaqen.

Why had she lied? Why didn't she just tell him the truth about Jaqen?

_Because she knows I don't like the guy._

Well, he wasn't going to like Jaqen any better, especially now.

_I shouldn't have waited! I should have asked her out earlier! I should have been the one holding her hand!_

He suddenly didn't feel like going to school. He didn't want to have to look at Arya. He didn't know if he could stand to.

He paced back and forth, slamming his fist into his palm, wishing he could slam his fist into Jaqen H'ghar instead. He should have known. _He should have known!_

Edric had tried to warn him about Jaqen.

"Girls are constantly throwing themselves at him, and Arya won't be any different." The blonde drummer had said.

The statement hadn't meant much to him at the time, but now he wished he'd given it more thought. _And what would you have done about it?_

Gendry sat on the edge of his bed for some time, trying to gain control of his disappointment and anger, and overall sense of loss. _How does that saying go, _he wondered, _you can't lose what you never had?_

He sneered cynically. That was a completely bogus sentiment. If anyone would know about loss, it was him.

Much of his childhood, before coming to live with the Motts, had been spent being sad about the loss of one thing or another. He knew very well, that not having possessed something did not equate to not knowing what you've missed, or what you've lost.

He'd never had a father, so he'd watched the other boys in his elementary class participate in father-son sports events at school, and watched the other kids make Father's Day cards. He'd felt that loss clear enough.

He could barely remember his mother, and he'd never had a real family life so he'd watched school friends go home to their families and sit around a table at meal times, and listen as kids talked about family holidays over summer or Christmas. He'd felt that loss, too.

He'd never known his father's name, and as soon as he was old enough to start questioning who he was and where'd he'd come from, he understood that part of his identity would be lost to him.

Gendry was used to dealing with loss, and he hadn't forgotten how either.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair and stood up. He'd go to school.

Calm again, some logic crept back into his brain.

"Think Gendry," He said to himself "You don't know for sure what's going on."

He needed to speak with Arya, and find out what the deal was with her and Jaqen. He needed to find out how serious things were between them, and whether he'd really lost her before he even had her.

He forced himself to look at the photo of Arya and Jaqen again. Seeing the happy expression on Arya's face, and the more than pleased look on Jaqen's, Gendry steeled himself.

If he had to, he'd figure out how to deal with losing Arya to Jaqen H'ghar.

He reached school, and to his dismay, the talk amongst the girls in his homeroom class was all about Arya Stark and the _uber-sexy_ Braavos Academy senior she was dating.

"How did she manage to snag _him_?" A girl in front of Gendry asked her friend beside her. "I mean, she's a freshman?"

"Freshman or not, she's a little hottie," Said her friend, "Have you seen her recently?"

Gendry must have made a noise, because one of them turned around and noticed him.

"Gendry, you're Arya's friend, right?"

"Right." He'd replied, wincing inwardly at the word _friend_.

"As her friend–" There was that word again, "Would you know how long she's been seeing Jaqen?"

"No." He bit out, and it rankled that he didn't.

"I just remembered!" The other girl suddenly said, "Your band and Jaqen's are going to be competing against each other! Who'll Arya be cheering for? You, her friend? Or, Jaqen her boyfriend?"

_You, her friend._ Gendry swore that if either girl said the word friend again, he was liable to do something he'd regret. Thankfully, the bell rang for first period and he was saved from anymore questions about Arya.

Hot Pie had looked at him curiously, and Gendry could tell the guy had questions of his own about his distant behavior, but Hot Pie wisely kept them to himself.

At lunch time, Arya and Hot Pie were already at their usual picnic bench at the quad when Gendry walked through the cafeteria doors. Arya looked gorgeous, and Gendry stopped for a moment just so he could watch her, uninterrupted.

She was wearing her new tighter fitting jeans, and a flowing, dark purple blouse. Her hair had been caught up with clips behind her ears, and it looked like she was wearing pink lipgloss as well, which was something he'd never seen her do.

_Who are you dressing up for, Arya?_ He wondered angrily.

With a nervousness he'd never felt around Arya before, Gendry walked over as casually as he could and sat down on the bench opposite her.

"Hey, how are you?" She asked him, and the smile she gave him caused a pain in his chest.

"Fine," He replied, "You?"

"I'm great, thanks."

"How was your weekend?" He asked, unable to stop a trace of bitterness from creeping into his voice.

"My weekend was great," Arya replied, sounding cautious.

"Yeah? Anything exciting happen?" He prompted, "Anything you want to share with us?"

Arya eyed him warily, seeing something in his stormy blue eyes and the line of his jaw that suddenly set her on edge.

"Is there something in particular you want to ask me, Gendry?"

"Only if there's something you want to tell me." He replied.

From the look on her face, she knew exactly what he was talking about. Gendry never meant to come across aggressive, but now that his aggression had come to surface, he didn't know how to rein it back in.

Arya glared at him, the question '_how dare you?'_ obvious in her eyes but remaining unsaid.

"No," She finally said, her voice calm but he heard the indignation all the same, "There's nothing you need to know."

_That's how it's going to be,_ Gendry thought. He couldn't sit there any longer.

"I need to see Beric about something."

Without looking at Arya, he stood up and left.

He didn't contact her, or speak to her at school for the rest of the week.

* * *

**Eddard**

Ned was sitting in his study at Chateau Maegor, drinking a 25 year-old, Laphroaig single malt from a cut crystal tumbler.

It was reasonably early in the day for him to be drinking, and he had a mountain of paperwork to go through, but he couldn't concentrate. He'd hoped the whiskey would calm him, as it usually did, but it wasn't helping him at that moment. He took another swallow. _Maybe I just need to drink more._

Someone had leaked the issues Robert Baratheon was having with his company to the papers, and sure enough, everything had been blown out of proportion. Robert's PR team were now in repair mode, but Ned feared that the damage had already been done.

There was now too much talk about Robert's company downsizing and jobs being cut, and there was speculation about why the joint-venture was taking place in the first instance. Some smart analyst had worked out that Stark Industries was getting involved in order to bail Baratheon Incorporated out of trouble. It was too close to the truth for Ned's liking.

Apart from work, the other issue on his mind concerned the conversation he'd had with Robert about Gendry Waters.

"I want you to tell me what you know about my boy_,"_ Robert had said to him.

Not thinking, he'd immediately thought the man was referring to Joffrey.

"No, Ned. My real son…Gendry Waters."

Ned had taken half a second to recover from his surprise, "I don't believe I know what you're talking about."

"Ah…come off it, Ned!" Robert had scoffed, "I know you've been asking questions."

Still, Ned had acknowledged nothing. He would hear the truth of the matter, as Robert saw fit to tell him.

"I know that look," Robert had sobered up, "It means I won't get anything out of you. So fine, I'll do the talking. The boy is mine, there's no denying it…just look at him. He's more my son than Joffrey is."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what you think I'm saying," Robert had ground out, "Cersei is a lying, cheating whore and I'm willing to bet what's left of my fortune that my kids, are not _my_ kids."

"You don't know for sure?"

"Nah," Robert had shaken his head, "But I could, easily. We're not in medieval times, Ned. We've got tests for that these days." The big man had then let out a loud sigh, "But what would be the point? I'm the only father these kids know, and besides, I'm not much better than that bitch I married. After all, Gendry is about the same age as Joffrey. Do the math…I would have screwed that boy's mother around the time I married that Lannister bitch. "

Ned had remained in stunned silence.

"I should have seen it earlier, Ned. The kids take nothing after me…Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen all have that typical Lannister look about them, you know? Blonde hair and green eyes," Robert then let out a harsh laugh, "Cersei may as well have fucked Jaime, that arrogant twin brother of hers!"

Ned had winced at Robert's crudeness.

"What are you going to do?" He'd asked instead.

"Nothing, other than what I've already done for the boy." Robert replied, his manner suggesting it a foregone conclusion that Ned knew everything about Gendry's inheritance. "Cersei can keep fucking whoever she wants, and I'll do the same, as I always have."

"You're not going to divorce her?"

"Divorce?" Robert had laughed, "Cersei would love that, but I'm not about to start doing anything she might actually want! Besides, being married means I have a legitimate reason for ditching scheming gold-diggers."

_You haven't got that much gold left to dig for. _Ned had bitten back his retort.

"And the kids?" Ned had said instead, unable to bring himself to say, _your _kids_._

"Can remain oblivious," Robert had shrugged, "I know I'm not any kind of father, but at least they can have my name…whatever its worth. No one else needs to know about this, Ned. Did you know that the girl, Myrcella, has just been offered a place at some posh European dance school?"

"No, I didn't know that."

"Well, Cersei's throwing a farewell party for her this weekend." Robert informed him, "Your daughter's coming."

"Is she? She hasn't told me about it."

"Don't worry, she'll be safe," Robert waved his arm dismissively, "Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that the kids are better off not knowing."

Ned had thought the same thing.

Robert had then sighed, and Ned had given him a questioning look.

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my time, Ned. I probably shouldn't have ignored that woman when she'd told me she was pregnant with my kid."

"You knew about Gendry? The whole time?"

"No," Robert had corrected him. "I didn't know about Gendry, per se. I knew he might have existed, I just didn't know for sure until recently."

"When? Why did you decide to seek him out?"

"I had a heart attack," Robert announced, "Or at least I thought I was having a heart attack…turns out it was just a bad case of indigestion!"

Ned had not found this amusing. "You are too fat, and you drink too much."

"Don't you start that with me!"

"Just get on with it."

"Don't judge me for my gluttony or my drinking…I _am_ married to Cersei Lannister." Robert had rubbed a hand over his face, before continuing his story. "After I thought I was going to die, I got to thinking of the things I'd told myself I'd do before I actually died."

"You have a bucket list?" Ned had scoffed.

"Turns out I do, and finding out if I did have a kid by that waitress was on the list."

Ned had found Robert's tale incredible, but perhaps a near-death experience could be blamed for the sudden awaking of the man's conscience.

"I wish I could meet the boy, Ned." Robert had said, wearing a somber expression on his face that Ned hadn't seen since the day his sister, Lyanna, had died. "I'd like to speak to him, and see how he turned out."

Ned decided he'd share a little of what he'd learned about Gendry with Robert.

"He's a good kid, Robert." He volunteered. "He's polite, generous and thoughtful. I've met him."

"You have? How? When?"

"He's friends with my youngest daughter."

Robert had stared at him a moment, "Polite, generous and thoughtful you say?"

"Yes, Robert." Ned had smiled wanly. "He's nothing like you."

"Thank fucking Christ for that!"

Ned shook himself from his memory and finished his glass of whiskey. Shaking his head at the task that now lay before him, he sat down at his desk and took out the dossier he'd been supplied by Robert's assistant.

He spread the documents out on the desk and picked up the thickest of the pile. With another sigh, he flipped the cover and began to read Mace Tyrell's proposal.

* * *

**Sandor**

It was getting harder to be around her. Sandor admitted that to himself. It was proving more difficult to be near her, and not want to act on his instincts to rip her out of Joffrey's arms.

_Friends,_ she'd said. She wanted to be his friend. _Well, fuck that._ He didn't want her friendship. He wanted more than that. He wanted something he never thought he'd ever come to want…something he couldn't bring himself to name. But there was something he knew clear enough.

He wanted Sansa Stark.

He'd wanted her from the moment he'd met her, although he'd been refusing to acknowledge it for weeks. But now, his body wouldn't let him deny it. Not since the night he'd taken her to Serpentine Alley, and after her stupid tree climbing incident – or more accurately, what happened when she'd jumped into his arms.

He'd been so pissed off with Joffrey for off-loading his girlfriend onto him that day. Mostly because he hadn't wanted to be alone in the car with her, not after watching her parade around half-naked most of the day. Yet he had also been ridiculously pleased that she wasn't going home with Joffrey, and that the jerk's seduction plans had been shot to pieces.

Sansa had been visibly upset when she'd gotten into his car, and the silence had been uncomfortable, so it had come as a massive shock when she'd said she didn't want to go home yet…and then she'd begged him to take her with him.

He'd sworn at her, because part of him had known that she didn't want to be alone on her birthday, and she just happened to be stuck with him. While another part of him – his ego or his cock, he didn't care – had been all too happy to be spending time with a hot girl.

He had been hungry, he hadn't lied about that, and he'd have been happy with a couple of Big Mac's, but he knew he couldn't just take Sansa to McDonald's.

He also didn't want the risk of anyone seeing them together, and word of it getting to the Gossip Spyder. Flea Bottom had seemed like his safest bet.

His favorite place was the _trattoria_, and he remembered the cake house his mother used to take him to, thinking Sansa might like the quirkily decorated café. Lemon cakes had been his mother's favorite and she always used to say that the cake house on Serpentine Alley served the best she'd ever had.

He'd said the same thing to Sansa off the top of his head…turned out lemon cakes were her all-time, last-meal-on-earth, favorite food ever.

He wasn't certain what had made him take her to the cliff-top lookout, or how he'd even remembered that she liked looking at views, but wherever his inspiration had come from, he'd never been more thankful for it. He'd watched her silently, observed her profile, committing it to memory.

She'd clutched at his arm as well, and while the feeling of her hand on his bicep had surprised him, he'd relished it as well. He could still remember the warmth of her fingers through his sleeve, and the citrusy scent of her hair.

And then for whatever reason known only to her, Sansa had climbed up a tree and gotten herself stuck. At first, he hadn't been sure that he'd heard a cell phone chiming in the quad that afternoon. Only by sheer luck had he been looking towards the tree when a breeze had rustled the leaves and he'd seen a flash of red hair among the branches.

He'd been amused, exasperated and a little worried when he'd seen just how high she had climbed, especially considering her fear of heights. He'd thought for a moment that he would have had to climb the tree himself in order to get her down, and he hadn't relished that idea. He was six-six and over two hundred pounds, and he doubted those branches would have held his weight. Luckily Sansa had moved on her own.

He'd held out his hands to her, and warm tingles had shot up his arm when she'd taken his hand. The tingles had then spread through his whole body the moment she'd jumped into his arms. He'd held her against him, and felt her breasts against his chest, while one of her hands gripped his shoulder. Then she'd leaned on him, and he'd wished he could keep her in his arms.

Then he'd felt himself go hard, and he was glad she had pulled away when she had, before she could notice his reaction to her nearness.

He wanted Sansa Stark.

Sandor slammed the door of his locker, and the loud metallic clang covered the sound of the sigh that he released. He turned in the direction of the quad, and ran into Joffrey on his way.

He barely acknowledged the blonde jerk, but fell into step with him regardless.

"Something's up with Sansa," Joffrey muttered without preamble, and Sandor turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"She's been acting strangely," Joffrey said, frowning. "She doesn't want me touching her."

"Really?" Sandor tried not to sound too interested.

"She was mad at me about her birthday and shit, but I got her flowers and said sorry and all that…"He made a face. "That Theon Greyjoy's been posting stuff up on her Facebook."

"Like what?"

"Photos of them together, from back when they were still up North, and recent ones from when he and the Stark brothers visited…look." Joffrey took out his phone and logged onto his Facebook account, then shoved the phone into Sandor's hands when he'd found what he was after.

There was an album full of photos of various Stark family events and outings. Sandor's eyes immediately sought out Sansa, and he wasn't surprised to find that even as a little girl, Sansa was very pretty.

There was another album of the recent snaps taken during their visit. One photo was just of Theon and Sansa, with Theon standing behind Sansa, his arms around her waist. Sansa's smile was sweet enough, but didn't reach her eyes. It was tagged, 'With birthday girl #1 House of Black & White'.

"Hey sexy, great seeing you again…I'll be missing you!" Theon had posted to Sansa.

Underneath was a comment from Robb Stark, "I can see this post Theon…I know where you live. I dare you to call her sexy again!"

Underneath that was another comment from Theon, "Sansa is sexy sexy SEXY!"

"Idiots." Arya Stark had written beneath that.

Sandor scowled.

"Maybe she's cheating on me with Greyjoy." Joffrey stated.

"He's hundreds of miles away." Sandor reminded him.

"Maybe it's someone else then." Joffrey shrugged, but his mouth had thinned. "_She'd better not be sneaking around behind my back_."

Sandor knew Joffrey well enough to know that Joffrey's behaviour was driven by his need to possess. Sansa was his toy, and no one got to play with her but him.

"How could she be?" Sandor asked with carefully, "You're always with her."

"True, and the only other guy she's ever alone with is you," Joffrey added, "And you scare her, so I know she'll never go for you."

Sandor's scowl darkened.

"Take a look at this other photo," Joffrey showed him an image of Sansa and Theon, with the caption reading 'party winterfell', dated during the summer just gone. Theon had tagged Sansa in the photo, under which he'd written; "_Hey sexy, thanks for making summer so memorable…"_

They approached the picnic table where all their friends were sitting, and Joffrey said something that Sandor couldn't catch when he spotted Sansa.

"…think I'll just ask her straight out." Was what he did hear Joffrey say, and before he could do anything to stop him, Joffrey was stalking over towards Sansa.

Sandor watched with apprehension. He could see what was coming, and he wished he had some way of warning her, but this had nothing to do with him. He would keep out of it.

"What's going on between you and Theon Greyjoy?" Joffrey asked her, and immediately, Sansa's face went red.

_Interesting_, Sandor thought upon seeing Sansa's reaction.

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked, eyes wary and guarded.

"What's with all these messages on Facebook? He always refers to you as sexy."

"That's just Theon, being Theon," Sansa said.

"What happened last summer, Sansa?"

"Nothing!" She replied, eyes wide.

_She's lying_, Sandor frowned.

"Why does he keep saying he misses you?"

"Because, maybe he does," Sansa conceded, "He's like Robb to me, Joffrey. I don't understand why you're being like this."

Everyone at their table was now watching them avidly, waiting for whatever would come next. Sandor could feel everyone's discomfort, in addition to Sansa's mortification at this public altercation.

"He shouldn't be touching you like that." Joffrey said.

Sandor agreed.

"Only I should be touching you that way!" Joffrey hissed.

Sandor did not agree.

"It means nothing, Joffrey!" Sansa insisted, "Please, can we talk about this somewhere else?"

Sansa grabbed hold of Joffrey's arm and pulled him away from the immediate surrounding group of tables where every student within earshot was listening and watching, and Sansa eventually led Joffrey behind a tree on the edge of the quad.

Maneuvering himself, Sandor was able to observe Joffrey's agitated actions as he ranted at Sansa, and as Sansa's face became stressed and apologetic as she sought to contain Joffrey's temper.

Sandor hoped that she said the right things to appease the blond jerk. For her own good, he sincerely hoped she did.

"What do you think she's saying?" A feminine voice asked him.

Sandor looked down and found Jeyne Poole at his elbow, looking over at Joffrey and Sansa with genuine worry on her face. Jeyne never usually spoke to him, but the sophomore's concern for Sansa appeared to be greater than her fear of him.

"I don't know," Sandor frowned, "You should probably stick around though, to make sure she's okay."

Sansa was again holding onto Joffrey's arm, and she looked to be pleading with him. Joffrey looked like he was resisting, and Sansa's lips continued to move. Gradually, Sandor watched Joffrey's stance relax. Whatever pretty words Sansa was saying to him appeared to be working.

"Do you know anything, Jeyne?" He asked quietly, not expecting an honest answer, "What's with Sansa and Theon?"

Jeyne glanced up at him warily, and Sandor could see she was resisting the urge to flinch when he met her eyes.

"There's nothing," She replied, "Not on her part, anyway."

Jeyne probably expected him to tell Joffrey, but Sandor had no intention of doing so. It didn't surprise him to know that Theon Greyjoy may be interested in Sansa. He was sure plenty of guys were interested.

He turned back to where Joffrey and Sansa were standing behind the tree, and found that Joffrey now had his arms possessively around Sansa, and was kissing her. Something about the way Sansa was standing in the blonde's arms looked awkward, and Sandor felt the now familiar urge to rip her out of Joffrey's arms.

"Oh, look. They made up," He sneered, then he looked at Jeyne, "See that she's okay, will you?"

Without waiting for her to respond, he got up and walked away, and didn't see the curious expression on Jeyne's face as she watched him leave.

* * *

**Sansa**

The Baratheon's had booked out several function rooms at the exclusive _Hook Restaurant_ at Aegon's High Hill.

A luncheon was being held for Myrcella's farewell, but Sansa could see that most of the guests in attendance were adults, friends and acquaintances of the Baratheons and Lannisters. An invitation had been extended to her parents, but they had declined on account of a prior engagement her father had committed to.

The dress code was smart casual, and almost all the men present wore nice shirts and jackets with tailored trousers, while the women wore tea-dresses and shifts.

Sansa was wearing a pastel green fit-and-flare dress that skimmed her knees and cinched in at her waist. Her hair, she had worn into a loose twist at the base of her head, and kitten heels on her feet.

Myrcella did have some of her school friends present, and all the girls wore teary expressions at the fact Myrcella was going to be away indefinitely. The Dorne Academy had officially accepted her for one year, but there was a strong possibility she would be invited to extend her studies.

As it turned out, Myrcella was flying out that evening, and Sansa learned that Myrcella's parents had assigned a personal bodyguard to accompany her, and watch out for her while she was away.

In all honesty, Sansa had not wanted to come to the party at all, especially after the fight she'd had with Joffrey the day prior, but she'd made a promise to Myrcella to be there.

It had taken a sickening amount of sweet-talking to get Joffrey to calm down, and when she'd gotten home that night, the first thing she'd done was unsubscribe from Theon's posts on Facebook to try and limit what Joffrey would find on her wall.

She'd been frightened of the look in Joffrey's eyes that day, and she'd been shaking the entire time she'd been trying to calm him down. He had a temper on him, and she had the inexplicable fear that he could lash out at any moment.

She hadn't liked it one bit, and she feared having to see the face of Joffrey's jealousy again.

She damned Theon Greyjoy to hell for causing trouble for her, even from hundreds of miles away.

She now sighed, and focused her attention on the present.

Sansa had met a number of the Baratheon and Lannister family members before, but she'd never really had the opportunity to speak with many of them previously.

She now found herself standing in front of two, markedly different and evidently Lannister men. Both had the same golden-blond hair, but one was tall, and the other dwarf-size. The shorter one was holding out a flute of pink lemonade to Sansa.

"Thank you," She said as she accepted the glass from him, and hid her surprise at his appearance.

"You're welcome, Miss Stark," He said. "I don't believe we've met. Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Tyrion Lannister."

She'd recognised him even before he'd spoken his name. Joffrey had told her about his Uncle Tyrion, the dwarf.

The other man beside him was Jaime Lannister, who stood as tall and muscular as Joffrey. Sansa found it uncanny how much Joffrey resembled his Uncle Jaime, and wondered if Joffrey would grow up to be half as graceful and elegant as the man in front of her.

"It's nice to meet you," Sansa said to Tyrion.

"I hear you're the young lady that's captured Joffrey's heart," Jaime smiled, and Sansa flushed, "We Lannister men have always had impeccable taste in women, and it's good to see Joffrey has inherited our discerning eye for beauty."

"I also see where he gets his talent for flattery," Sansa heard herself say.

Both men laughed, and Sansa was surprised to see that Tyrion's prominent brows, as characterized those with his kind of dwarfism, and his mismatched black and green eyes, did not seem so unattractive when he smiled.

"And you have wit to go with your charm," Said Tyrion.

"She must get that from her mother," Said a third voice that Sansa did not recognize.

"Ah, Baelish. I don't believe you've met Ned Stark's eldest daughter." Jaime said to the newcomer.

Sansa turned to find a man in his forties with dark hair distinguished by streaks of silver throughout. He was lean in build and of a height with her, and sported a trimmed goatee. The man reached out to take her free hand as Jaime introduced her.

"This is Sansa Stark,"

"Petyr Baelish, at your service." Petyr placed a light kiss on the back of Sansa's hand, and she fought the instinct to snatch her hand away. "You're just as beautiful as your mother."

"Oh, you know my mother?" Sansa asked.

"I did," Petyr smiled at her, "I knew her when she was still known as Catelyn Tully."

"You're an old friend then," Sansa returned his smile politely. "I will let my mother know that I met you, Mr. Baelish."

"Yes, do send her my regards, and do call me Petyr, please. Although I hope I will get to meet with your mother in person soon."

"Petyr works for our brother-in-law," Tyrion supplied, "He's the Chief Financial Officer at _Baratheon Incorporated_."

Sansa remembered something she'd heard in the news, and for a moment she became her father's daughter.

"So you're Mr. Baratheon's accountant," She began, "I heard rumors that _Baratheon_ _Incorporated_ is in some financial trouble, is there any truth to what's in the news?"

Tyrion and Jaime seemed surprised at her question. Petyr looked mildly amused.

"What rumors would they be?" Petyr asked, and Sansa sensed that he was humoring her, and this annoyed her.

"The rumors that there could be jobs lost, and that without my father's help, Mr. Baratheon's company would be in a lot of trouble."

Petyr regarded her with new eyes, and Tyrion gave him a nudge. "Answer her, she asked a valid question."

"You don't need to concern yourself with what you hear in the news, my dear," Petyr smiled at her again, "You're young, and shouldn't be worrying about these things."

"Perhaps, but it interests me," Sansa insisted.

"She means to have an answer, Baelish." Jaime grinned, enjoying the accountant's apparent discomfiture at being questioned by a teenage girl.

Petyr Baelish tilted his head slightly, and his eyes narrowed. "You're not at all what I expected of Catelyn Tully's daughter,"

Sansa didn't know where her boldness came from, but she disliked this Petyr Baelish, and his condescending tone was grating on her nerves.

"Don't forget," She smiled sweetly, eyes flashing, "I'm Eddard Stark's daughter, too."

Again, Tyrion and Jaime Lannister were brought to laughter once they had recovered from their shock.

"You are a gem, Sansa Stark!" Tyrion acknowledged, "If ever you decide to follow your father into business, I'd bet you'll be some force to reckon with."

Sansa never did get her answer from Petry Baelish. Joffrey found her at that moment, and took her by the arm.

"Come, Sansa," He said, "You don't want to be stuck with these boring uncles of mine."

"Let's hope we shall get another chance to speak with you again, Sansa." Jaime said, "Joffrey, don't you let this girl go."

Sansa nodded at them as Joffrey led her away, and headed towards the outdoor area overlooking the bay.

Sandor Clegane was there, wearing tailored black pants and a dark grey shirt with black pinstripes that he wore with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing muscular forearms. He'd also left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and Sansa could see the hollow at the base of his neck. His hair, as usual, was combed over the burned side of his face, but he'd made some attempt to keep it tamed with some hair product.

Sandor was the most casually dressed of the teenage boys there, including Joffrey, but to Sansa he was the one that was the most striking to look at. He'd given her a nod when she'd first seen him, but other than that he'd made no attempt to speak to her.

Myrcella and her friends soon joined them, and Sansa enjoyed the best part of the afternoon talking to her about what she was looking forward to the most about Dorne Academy.

"Meeting Trystane Martell!" Myrcella replied excitedly, "He's their resident prodigy, seventeen years old, with black hair and olive skin…!"

Sansa smiled and listened, completely unaware of the brooding, grey-eyed stare of her silent watcher.

* * *

**Sandor**

They'd finally bid farewell to Myrcella Baratheon, who had just been driven away in a limousine headed towards the airport accompanied Arys Oakhart, a member of Robert Baratheon's security team now re-assigned as Myrcella's bodyguard.

Some of the guests had already left, but there were still a good many of them that weren't quite ready yet to part with the Baratheon's unlimited bar tab.

It was while he was contemplating excusing himself to go home that he happened to notice Mr. Santagar, head of Robert Baratheon's security, and the manager of the restaurant approaching Robert's table. He observed the anxious expression on the manager's face as he spoke.

"I don't care…just get rid of them!" Robert snapped, waving them away.

Moments later, Sandor observed Jaime and Tyrion Lannister, along with Renly Baratheon approach Robert and his wife Cersei. Jaime leaned in and said something in Robert's ear. Robert was scowling when Jaime pulled back.

"….So call the fucking police if you want!" Robert hissed.

"You need to do get your guests out of here now!" Jaime hissed back, his voice calm but urgent.

"Robert, listen to him," Cersei spoke up, "If anything should happen…"

"Stay out of it, woman!"

"You need to do something, Robert." Tyrion urged.

Robert looked at the dwarf a moment, before he nodded.

"Renly, go and tell the kids to come inside," He instructed his brother, "Jaime and Tyrion, come with me."

Robert stood up from the table and left the function room, followed by his brothers-in-law.

Clearly, something was wrong.

Sandor followed them into the main restaurant area, and through the panoramic glass windows at the front of the room, he immediately saw the problem.

A crowd had begun to gather in the parking lot. Some of them were carrying placards and signs bearing the words 'SAVE OUR JOBS'.

_This is bad, _Sandor thought, realizing that the crowd outside were disgruntled _Baratheon_ _Incorporated_ employees.

Sandor could hear a man's voice in the air, tinny and amplified as it was through a megaphone.

"…Answer us this question, Mr. Baratheon? How do you justify flaunting your wealth about with extravagant displays such as this party, knowing that you could be laying off hundreds of employees?"

There was a roar from the crowd at this, and the voice continued.

"Come out and speak to us, Mr. Baratheon! See the faces of the people who work for you! See the faces of the people who would lose their jobs and the means to support their families if you cut our jobs!"

The other restaurant patrons began to leave, at the urging of the restaurant staff.

_We should be getting out of here as well. _Why weren't the Baratheons organizing for them to leave?

"They're blocking the driveway exits." He heard one of Robert's security guys saying.

"But they're letting the other patrons pass." Said someone else.

"Because they're only here for Robert," The first guy returned.

"Clegane," Sandor turned and found Renly motioning to him, "Get back in here and help me count heads."

Sandor followed as he was ordered. Some of Myrcella's friends were still present, and the fourteen year old girls were starting to look scared.

He saw Tommen, who now sat with Cersei. He saw Joffrey pacing the floor…but there was no sign of Sansa.

"Has anyone seen my daughter?" Asked a middle-aged woman.

"Calm down, Mrs. Stokeworth, we'll find your daughter." Renly answered the woman.

There were shouts now coming from outside, and everyone inside the room lifted their heads to listen. It was a picket-line war cry.

_"What do we want?"_

_ "Job security!"_

_ "When do we want it?"_

_ "Now!"_

Sandor witnessed the man called Petyr Baelish storming after Robert Baratheon, and the two disappeared down the hall.

"…You must go out there and say something to these people, Robert!" Petyr was saying to him.

The chanting outside grew louder, and the voice on the megaphone began to lead the crowd in a new chant.

_"One, two, three, four! We know what we're out here for!"_

_ "Five, six, seven, eight! Come on Baratheon, play it straight!"_

Tyrion Lannister came back into the room and did a quick survey of its occupants, before his eyes landed on his nephew.

"Joffrey," He called out to him, "Where's Sansa?"

"I don't know," Joffrey replied. "She went for a walk in the gardens with some girl earlier."

"You need to find her," Tyrion said.

"Joffrey's not leaving this room," Cersei declared, "Get Greenfield to find her."

Sandor could have throttled Joffrey's ice-blonde bitch of a mother.

"My daughter's missing! Has anyone seen her?" Cried the woman, Mrs. Stokeworth.

Sandor swore under his breath. Sansa could be _anywhere_ on the grounds, where a rapidly angering mob was still continuing to grow in numbers.

_"Baratheon you're rich and rude, we don't like your attitude!"_

_ "Lies and tricks will not divide, workers standing side by side!"_

_ "They say cut back, we say fight back!"_

Cersei stood up and walked towards to door, running into Robert and Petyr Baelish who were making their way in.

"How the hell did your workers union find out we were going to be here today?" She demanded angrily.

"I don't fucking know!" Robert replied just as angrily, "Now, I'm going outside to speak to them. I want you to get people ready to leave. When Jaime gives you the word, get our guests out of here!"

_Sansa, where are you?_

Sandor would find her himself.

As Robert headed towards the restaurant doors, where the agitated looking restaurant manager was waiting for him, Sandor made his way to a rear exit. He'd barely made it out the door when he heard the unmistakable sound of smashing glass.

And then people began shouting.

And then there was screaming…

"Santagar! Greenfield!" Jaime Lannister ran past, "Get Robert! It's turned into a riot!"

Sandor slipped out of the door just as another pane of glass was smashed to pieces. Evidently, Robert had said something that angered the protestors.

He was encouraged to see that the rear gardens were empty, and Sandor cut across flower beds in order to reach the path Sansa would most likely have taken. If she wasn't in the rose garden, he didn't know where else she would be, and he was taking a huge risk.

His long strides ate up the path when he reached it, and he cursed when he realized just how expansive the gardens were, but he found her eventually.

Sansa was on the other side of the garden hiding in the hedges, cut off from the exit by the rioting mob that had sprawled out onto the lawn. There was an older girl with her, and both of them looked scared.

_Shit! Shit! Shit!_

The noises and shouts from the parking lot were getting louder. The restaurant was being smashed up, and in the distance Sandor could hear sirens as well. The police had been called.

"Watch out!"

There were feminine screams across the garden, and Sandor saw that someone had fallen into the garden bed near Sansa and the other girl. If he didn't do something soon, they would get caught up in the riot.

People were now picking up and throwing things in the direction of the restaurant, and at the people attempting to flee the scene.

Adrenaline suddenly kicked into his veins, and Sandor found himself barreling through the mob. He was a linebacker for a reason, and he reached the hedge were Sansa was hiding, relatively unscathed.

"Sandor?" Sansa stared at him incredulously. "What's going on? Why are the protestors attacking?"

He shook his head, he didn't have time to answer her questions.

"We have to move," He growled at the two girls. "You both do as I tell you, got it?"

Sansa nodded, then tilted her head towards the girl with her. "This is Lollys Stokeworth."

He didn't fucking care who she was, so long as she did as he told her.

"We're going to head for the other side of the parking lot, and with any luck the Baratheon's will have cars ready." He barked at them, "When I tell you to run, you run, and you don't stop until you see the Baratheons or Lannisters!"

He grabbed both girls by an elbow, and he waited for the mob to stop heaving just enough so they could make a run for it.

"Now! Run!" He pulled them roughly with him, half leading, half dragging them along.

He felt hands grabbing at him, and he instinctively tried to use his massive bulk to shield Sansa and the Stokeworth girl. They were halfway through the crowd, when he heard a sharp scream and a tug on his arm.

He looked down and saw that Sansa had fallen…and there was blood on her face.

"Sansa!" He shouted, then he looked at the Stokeworth girl, "Run, you dumb half-wit! Run!"

The girl ran, but Sandor didn't check to see if she made it. His sole concern now was getting Sansa to safety.

Hands were grabbing at him again, and at Sansa, and Sandor shoved and growled like a rabid dog.

"Get your hands off me!" He shouted.

Then he hauled Sansa against him, and used his other arm like a battering ram, fighting his way through the maddened crowd. He felt a sharp sting on his bicep as he collided with someone holding a placard, but he ignored the pain.

"CLEGANE!"

Sandor turned at the sound of his name and found Tyrion Lannister and Renly Baratheon waving at him from behind a dumpster.

"You found her!" Tyrion exclaimed in relief, "Let's go, Renly's car is just through there."

Sansa continued to clutch at him, her eyes wide with shock as Renly and Tyrion led them through another flower bed, and into a waiting car on the street beyond.

"Where's everyone else?" Sandor asked when Renly finally pulled away from the scene.

"Got out through the delivery dock," Tyrion replied from the front passenger seat.

"Nice of them to wait," Sandor remarked darkly.

Neither Tyrion or Renly replied.

"Where's Joffrey?"

"With his mother," Renly said, "Cersei insisted he stay with her."

Sandor didn't say what all three of them were thinking. Sansa didn't have to hear that no one had been sent to find her and make sure she was safe. Why had Renly and Tyrion stuck around?

"I saw you go through the rear door," Renly replied, as though sensing Sandor's thought, "I figured you'd gone after her."

How he'd figured that, Sandor didn't care to find out. He was just thankful that the guy had stayed behind.

Of the dwarf, he couldn't speak for. In truth, he would have expected the dwarf to be among the first to flee, given his stumpy legs and all, but Tyrion Lannister had surprised him.

The uncle that Joffrey always poked fun at had guts.

Sansa shifted against him. They were seated along the rear seat, and she refused to let go of her grip she had on his shirt. Sandor didn't want her anywhere but where she was currently, tucked under his arm…an arm that was bleeding. _When did I get cut?_

"Are you all right, my dear?" Tyrion directed the question at Sansa.

She nodded. "He…he rescued me."

Tyrion gave her a gentle smile, then shot Sandor a look. "Well done, Clegane."

_I didn't do it for you,_ he thought, before he glanced down at his little bird.

* * *

**Arya**

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the name that popped up on the screen with some surprise before she answered the incoming call.

"Gendry…hello," She greeted him.

"Hey," He said, "Are you busy? We need to talk."

"Okay," She said, "Let's talk."

"In person," He sighed, "Can I come over?"

Arya sat up. Gendry wanted to come over.

"Sure,"

"I'll see you in twenty."

When he hung up, she rolled off her bed, where she'd been for most of Saturday afternoon listening to music and reading a magazine. She went to the bathroom, freshened up and dragged a brush through her hair. Then she looked down and found she was wearing pajama shorts and a faded t-shirt that had once belonged to Jon.

Swearing, and feeling inexplicably nervous, she changed into jeans and a nicer tee before going downstairs to wait for Gendry to arrive. She hadn't spoken to him, or even seen him for longer than two seconds over the week, and she had a good idea about what he wanted to speak about.

She couldn't believe how angrily Gendry had reacted to her date with Jaqen. She'd suspected that he wouldn't be happy about it, given that he had told her from that start that he didn't like Jaqen, but the outright hostility she'd sensed was unexpected, and entirely uncalled for.

Arya opened the door before Gendry had even got out of his car, and she greeted him with a careful smile.

"Hey," She said.

"Hey," He returned.

"Come in," She stepped aside and led him into the wide foyer of Chateau Maegor.

Gendry looked around him, noting the expensive looking décor, and the artworks on the walls.

"Nice place," He said.

Arya shrugged and led him into the currently uninhabited TV room.

"How've you been?" She asked him, sitting down on the couch.

"Busy. First heats of the competition are in less than a fortnight, and Beric's going absolutely mental." Gendry replied.

"That doesn't surprise me," She commented, then got down to business. "Gendry, you said you wanted to talk."

"Right, yeah." He fidgeted with his jeans, and Arya knew he was beyond nervous. "Arya, look. About what happened on Monday…I know I shouldn't have acted that way."

"No, you shouldn't have," She agreed with him. "So, why did you act like a jerk?"

Gendry winced. "I guess…I guess I got caught by surprise by the Spyder's post."

"And?"

"I was angry that you didn't tell me the truth about…you and him."

It was Arya's turn to wince. "About that, yeah…I knew you wouldn't like it if I dated Jaqen."

"You knew that?"

"Well, yeah," She said, "You kept warning me to be careful and be wary of him, every chance you could."

Gendry made a face, remembering. "Okay, I guess I did."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for some moments, before Gendry asked her another question.

"How serious is it, between you two?"

Arya shrugged, "I don't know…it's only been one date, and he's busy preparing for the competition as well."

She and Jaqen had swapped text messages everyday during the week, but they'd had only one brief phone conversation, and it was just so Jaqen could apologize for his busy schedule and to assure her that he most definitely wanted to go on a second date.

"Could it get serious?"

"I don't know, Gendry," Arya sighed, "I'm new to dating, and you know that."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Why are you so curious anyway?"

Gendry shifted in his chair again, and he seemed to be trying to find the right response, but he never got the chance to speak.

At that moment, they were interrupted by a loud banging on the front door.

Arya jumped up at the urgency behind the knocks, "I'd better get that,"

She'd only just pulled open the door when a giant bear of a man barreled through it, followed by a younger man who looked the spitting image of Gendry Waters – but it was the girl leaning on his arm that had her gasping.

"Sansa!" Arya cried in alarm.

"Ned!" The big man called out. "Ned, I need to talk to you!"

Arya recognized this man as Robert Baratheon. The younger man, Arya was startled to identify as Renly Baratheon.

At the sound of the Robert's bellows, both her mother and father rushed to the door.

"Oh, my God!" Her mother cried, seeing the state that Sansa had arrived in.

"_What the hell happened, Robert?_" Her father all but snarled.

Sansa's dress had spots of blood on it, her hair was disheveled and there was a bandage on her left temple.

_What the fuck?_

"Have you watched the news, Ned?" Robert asked, "If not, you need to watch it. It's on all the local channels, and it'll be nationwide shortly, if it isn't already."

The expression on her father's face grew dark.

"Cat, take Sansa upstairs now, and put her to bed. Arya, go find Bran and Rickon and tell them to go to their rooms."

Gendry chose that moment to walk out into the foyer as well, and there was a collective gasp from everyone but Ned.

Arya, Robert and Catelyn stared back and forth between Gendry and Renly, while the two young men eyed each other warily.

_Whoa! _Arya's jaw dropped. She'd always thought Gendry reminded her of someone she'd met before, but seeing them side by side, their resemblance to each other was beyond uncanny.

Ned cleared his throat, "Gendry, I'm sorry to have to cut your visit short, but something has happened."

"I understand, sir." Gendry nodded, then looked to Arya, "I'll see you at school."

"Okay," She said, and mouthed _sorry_ to him.

He gave her another nod, then let himself out of the already opened door. Robert and Renly stared after him.

"Catelyn," Ned said.

Catelyn immediately took charge of the silent, and apparently shaken Sansa and led her upstairs.

"Arya, please go and find your brothers."

Arya moved to obey, but as she exited the foyer, she overheard Renly Baratheon speak to his brother.

"So, it's true then?"

"You _will_ keep your mouth shut, if you know what's good for you." Robert snarled.

"The resemblance is remarkable, don't you think?" Renly continued.

"Shut your trap, before I shut it for good!"

Arya heard nothing more, but after she'd herded her brothers up to their rooms, she found herself sitting in front of her computer pulling up Facebook photos of Gendry and Renly.

She sat there, looking at their photos side by side for a long time.


	11. Episode 11 Wishing & Hoping

**Hi everyone, thanks again for your patience – thank you again for all your lovely long reviews. I tried to reply to all of you, unfortunately I'm time poor at the moment, but I still appreciate each and every one of them. **

**As you can tell, it's taking longer and longer between updates as I am getting very busy…more on that later, for the moment, please enjoy!**

* * *

**Episode 11**

"**Wishing & Hoping"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Oh, where do I even begin to start! What an eventful few days we've had! It's never a dull day if your last name is Stark or Baratheon!

First there was the lover's quarrel between Sansa and Joffrey that pretty much half the school population witnessed in the quad the other day. Joffrey, jealousy does not become you… It looked like poor Sansa was scared of your temper, too. I heard from a number of sources that you were _accusing _Sansa of _cheating_ on you! ...Luckily you kissed and made up in the end!

Then there was the farewell party for Myrcella Baratheon – you can check out the photos taken at Hook Restaurant _before_ everything went bad…no need to go into detail about happened later that day – the news has been saturated with accounts of the worker's demonstration-turned-riot …tsk tsk!

Sansa Stark has also been spotted trying to conceal a discreet bandage on her temple under her bangs. I haven't been able to confirm the cause of her injury, but don't worry Sansa – a little bandage does nothing to take away from that gorgeous face of yours!

This morning's news headlines have also confirmed that a deal has been struck between Robert Baratheon, Ned Stark and Mace Tyrell, CEO of _Reach & Marches Holdings Pty Ltd _, who has agreed to invest in the joint venture – hopefully this will now stop those nasty talks about job losses at Baratheon Incorporated!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Sansa**

She was doing her best to keep calm. She had come to realize a few things after the events of the riot, and now her stomach was tying itself in knots as she decided what to do next.

She had an important choice to make, and she was nervous.

Sansa shut her locker door and walked to her first class.

The large, hulking figure of Sandor Clegane caught her eye as he crossed the hall in front of her, and she slowed her steps so that she could watch him as he rummaged inside his locker.

He was wearing denim jeans in a darker wash that suggested it was new. He also wore a dark blue V-neck shirt, under his white wool letterman jacket.

Her stomach fluttered, and her heart rate sped up. She watched the muscles move across his broad chest, and remembered what it had felt like to be held against him, tucked under the curve of his muscular arm…Safe.

He'd found her. Rescued her.

The crowd of angry Baratheon Incorporated employees, and their furious faces flashed in her mind, and some of the fright she'd felt at the time re-emerged, before she quickly pushed it away.

She'd asked Lollys Stokeworth to go for a walk in the gardens with her because she'd noticed that the older girl had sat in a corner by herself, if she wasn't at her mother' side, the whole afternoon. She'd felt sorry for her, so she'd asked her to come along.

The stroll in the flower gardens had been pleasant to start with, even if Lollys hadn't been particularly talkative. Then she'd heard noises, and voices from beyond the garden boundary. It wasn't until they'd heard the voice on the megaphone that they'd decided it was time to head back to the restaurant. They hadn't noticed just how far they had walked, and by the time Sansa had realized that something was very wrong, it had been too late, and she and Lollys had found themselves unable to get back to the restaurant.

The crowd of protestors had blocked their exit, and Sansa had been unable to coax Lollys Stokeworth to attempt to cross the picket line. So Sansa had had no choice but to stay with the blubbering girl.

Then the chanting had started and the noises got louder. Then there were angry shouts which had been followed by the sounds of things crashing and breaking. All Sansa had been able to do was pull herself and Lollys behind a hedge and find whatever cover they could as the angry mob spilled into the lawn area.

She'd been gone a long time, and she hoped Joffrey would notice and come looking for her, but he never did.

It had been such a shock, and a relief when she'd seen the Hound fighting his way through the mob towards them. He'd looked so frightening, and she didn't think to question him when he started ordering them around. She'd just known that he would get them out of there.

They'd been in the middle of the heaving crowd when something had struck her in the face, and she'd tripped. The look in the Hound's eyes when he'd seen the blood had made her shiver, and then something seemed to come over him, making him truly terrifying.

He'd shouted at Lollys to run, before he'd picked her up and pulled her to him, yelling and shoving at anyone that got too close.

Joffrey's uncles, Tyrion and Renly had appeared and then Sandor had bundled her into a dark car before getting in beside her. Not that she'd given him much choice to be parted from her side at that moment, she remembered.

She'd clung to him. So tightly, that when he had finally convinced her to release his shirt, the fabric around his chest had been creased and crumpled.

Renly had taken them back to The Red Keep, and there Sansa had seen Lollys reunited with her mother, before Tyrion had started shouting for Robert Baratheon, and she'd been whisked away from Sandor's side to have the cut on her head seen to, while he'd gone to tend to the cut on his arm.

Robert Baratheon's eyes had gone wide at the sight of her, and then he'd been barking orders at Renly to make sure she never left his sight.

_Finally remembered whose daughter I am? _She'd thought with a bitterness that had surprised her, even through her frazzled mind.

Her eyes had then sought to try and find Joffrey, but no one could or would tell her where her boyfriend was.

Once she'd been patched up, Robert and Renly Baratheon had bundled her into another car, and taken her back to her family.

She hadn't been given the chance to speak to Tyrion Lannister, or Sandor before they'd taken her away, and that upset her greatly.

By the time they had reached Chateau Maegor, her mind had shut off, and though she was standing quite calmly, and responding to questions asked of her, she hadn't been really there.

"She's in shock," Renly had said, "Ned will have _your_ head."

"Keep your opinions to yourself!" Robert had snapped.

There'd been an awkward moment in the foyer when Arya had let them in and Robert Baratheon's yelling had brought her parents to the door, and she'd been vaguely aware of Renly's doppelganger, Gendry Waters, being present as well, before her mother had then led her upstairs to her bedroom.

Sansa remembered showering, and being put to bed, but she didn't sleep.

She'd heard the raised voices floating up the staircase from her father's study, and soon there was the sound of the front door slamming. Her father had come into her room, long enough to see that she was not harmed in any other way, other than the shallow cut on her temple.

"Robert's holding a press conference," He'd said to her mother, "Don't wait up."

After he'd left, every cell phone and telephone in the house had begun to ring as their concerned friends and family enquired about their safety and well being.

Sansa had listened to her mother's one-sided conversation with whoever was on the other end of the phone, and learned that news of the workers demonstration riot had indeed been broadcast nationally, as well as locally.

More cell phones had continued ringing, including hers, but she hadn't bothered to pick it up, though outside her bedroom, she could hear that Arya and Bran had taken it upon themselves to silence the other phones and answer only calls from their immediate family.

The family had been well trained never to answer unknown calls, or talk to any member of the press.

Jon, Robb and Theon had been among the first to call, as were Sansa's grandfather Hoster Tully, and her uncle Benjen Stark. Only her family had been told that she had been present at the scene, and that she had been injured.

Sansa had lain awake in her bed for some time, before she had finally fallen sleep. She'd checked her missed calls and text messages first, however, and noted that Joffrey hadn't tried to contact her once.

She'd woken up the next day with anger in her belly, and Sandor Clegane on her mind, but he wasn't the cause of her anger. She was angry with Joffrey, and it was that anger that was now making her contemplate her next action.

She wanted to break up with him.

She was that furious with him.

Joffrey had called her eventually, on Sunday afternoon. He'd waited more than twenty-four hours before calling her to see if she was 'd apologized again, giving her some excuse about his mother and comforting his younger brother and how he just _couldn't_ get away to find her.

_You should have tried!_ She'd wanted to scream at him. _I'm your girlfriend! You're supposed to look out for me!_

But she didn't yell or swear at him as she'd wanted to. She didn't want to waste her energy.

She'd had enough of Joffrey's unpredictable mood swings, and his selfishness. She'd tolerated that kind of behavior from him before, but knowing that she had been wondering the gardens of the Hook Restaurant during a _riot_ and doing nothing to find her and ensure her safety – that was inexcusable, and unforgiveable.

Being in Sandor's protective embrace had been the catalyst…No, she corrected herself. Being in Sandor's arms, when she should have been in Joffrey's, had been the convincing closing argument.

She didn't want to be with Joffrey any longer.

Joffrey should have been the one to find her and rescue her, but he hadn't. It had been his best friend who had come after her, which was shocking and confusing in itself.

It was also the sight of his best friend now, who stood taller and broader than all the guys in the hall that had her palms sweating and her lips sight of him had always attracted and repelled her simultaneously.

Sandor Clegane was eliciting the same responses in her now.

She wanted to run to him, and find some excuse to have him put his arms around her again. But at the same time, she wanted to run from him, turn around and flee because it scared her to realize just how much she wanted to do exactly that…be in his arms.

She'd never felt like this with Joffrey.

Sandor shut his locker and Sansa ducked behind a bank of lockers before he could turn around and see her.

_Is this really happening? _She asked herself. _Am I really crushing on Sandor?_

Yes, she admitted.

Did she want to date him? Did she want him as a boyfriend?

A funny, squeaking noise escaped her lips at the idea of dating Sandor Clegane, and her palms grew clammier.

_There's something you need to do first_. She thought, and peaked out from behind the locker to watch Sandor walk away.

_Firstly, break up with Joffrey._

She allowed herself a little smile.

* * *

**Gendry**

Arya had been watching him curiously the past few days. While normally, he would have enjoyed her attention, it was the reason behind her speculative glances that he did not like.

It wasn't like Arya to gasp, but hers had been the loudest that day in the foyer of Chateau Maegor.

He'd seen Renly Baratheon before, but not up close, and he'd had to bite his tongue to keep from swearing in front of Arya's parents when he'd come face to _unbelievably_ similar face with the guy.

His first reaction when he'd looked into the blue eyes that were just like his own had been; _what the fuck?_

The next thought in his head had been; _could we be related?_

It wouldn't have been the first time he'd come across someone who looked like him and wondered if they were somehow related. It came with not knowing who his father was.

Immediately after that was the thought; _I'd better not be fucking related to Joffrey Baratheon!_

He'd taken a quick glance at Robert Baratheon, Joffrey's father, who'd looked just as stunned, before he'd left the premises.

He'd thought about it the entire ride back home idea that his father might be a Baratheon was too mind-boggling to fathom. Not to mention ridiculous. His mother had been a waitress at a diner. The likelihood of her having met and bedded a member of the rich, aristocratic Baratheon family was laughable.

Arya had definitely noticed the resemblance, and she'd been asking not so subtle questions about his past since.

"Your mom never told you his name?"

"No,"

"Not once?"

"Never,"

"Did you ever ask her?"

"I never bothered, and by the time it mattered to me, it was too late to ask her."

"Do you have a copy of your birth certificate?"

"Father's name was left blank."

"Don't you want to know?"

"I've gone seventeen years without knowing," He'd pointed out, "And if finding out means that I'll somehow be related to Joffrey, I think I'm better off not knowing."

"Good point."

Though he wouldn't admit it to Arya, he had also been more than intrigued about his past after his run-in with Renly and Robert Baratheon. Arya's questioning had started to re-awaken his own curiosity to find out his father's identity.

He wasn't completely stupid. He'd joined a few dots on his own since coming into money. Someone out there knew who he was, who his father was, and how much money had been given to him. He just had to ask the right person.

He had found out the reason behind Ned Stark's asking him to leave, and the blood on Sansa's dress the moment he had reached home to find his foster-parents in front of the television watching the news and footage of the worker's demonstration that had gotten out of hand. His father, as an employee at Baratheon Incorporated, had been concerned.

He'd sent Arya a text message immediately, asking if her sister was okay, and telling her to watch the news. She'd texted him back later that night to say the cut on Sansa's head was superficial and that she was okay. The next day, she'd texted him again to ask about his foster-father, who she knew worked for Robert Baratheon.  
And just like that, he was talking to her again.

He hadn't been able to stay away from her. He'd only been hurting himself, he thought bitterly.

In some consolation, Arya had seemed upset that he'd been avoiding her the previous week.

"You ignored me," She'd said when she saw him at school on Monday, as blunt as ever, "For a week, Gendry."

"Yeah," He'd admitted, "I've apologized for what I said."

"You still didn't have to ignore me."

He'd given her a look at the whine in her voice. "Did you miss me?"

Her eyes had widened for a split second and she'd looked away, but when she met his eyes again, her expression had been defiant.

"You're an ass," She'd said, "But yeah, I did."

She'd fled down the hall immediately afterwards, and she never heard his sharp intake of breath.

Gendry did not allow her answer to get his hopes up. After all, Jaqen H'ghar was still in the picture.

He sighed.

He'd never got around to telling her exactly why he'd acted like a jerk.

_And now the timing is all wrong._

He couldn't possibly spill his heart and guts out to Arya when she was so concerned about her father, and the gossip around Sansa's injury and the riot.

It would have been awkward enough before the worker's riot, when all she would have had to think about was him and Jaqen. She had too many things on her mind now, and Gendry didn't want to make things more difficult and complicated for her by telling her how he felt about her.

According to Hot Pie, Arya had blamed Gendry's behaviour down to her dating a guy he didn't like. This was true enough, but only half the story.

He was happy to let her keep thinking that for the meantime. He'd give her a few more days to deal with her family issues, and then he'd tell her.

She'd told him that it wasn't serious with Jaqen. After all, it had just been the one date. That was little comfort however, every time her cell phone beeped alerting her to a new text message and he'd sit there with his fists clenched where Arya couldn't see them, wondering if the message was from _him_.

He sighed, and Arya looked up at him from where she sat beside him eating her lunch and reading a magazine. Gendry was thankful for the fact that every minute she spent at his side, meant a minute she wasn't with _him._

"You keep sighing," Arya said.

"So?"

"Are you nervous about the competition, Gendry?"

_Not the one you're referring to._

"Yeah, I guess."

Arya reached out and put her hand on his forearm, smiling at him gently. "Regardless of who wins, Gendry, I'm sure you'll do your best."

He could only nod, and look at her smile.

He didn't want to lose.

* * *

**Arya**

Arya came home from school feeling like her head would explode. She had too many things on her mind, and she didn't know which one to deal with first. There was still way too much talk going around school about the riot, and what was happening between her father and Robert Baratheon's companies, and the Tyrell's.

Plus, she'd had another run in with the Hound that afternoon as she was going to retrieve a forgotten text book from her locker. She'd smacked face first into his chest _again,_ for the third time.

The asshole had made some crack about throwing herself at him _again_, so she'd punched him, and he'd howled in pain. How was she supposed to know he'd injured his arm?

She'd almost apologized to him, too. Luckily she'd stopped herself in time.

"I'm home mother!" She called out when she entered the house, then went to her room when she heard her mother's acknowledgement.

Arya had come to the conclusion early on that she couldn't help her father. Her parents had been arguing in her father's study on and off over the past few days since Sansa had come home bleeding.

That night, after Sansa had been taken care of, Arya had watched wide eyed as replays of the riot appeared on TV, and as people she knew on Facebook shared links to news clips.

Arya had received text messages from Gendry, Jaqen, Hot Pie and even from Beric on behalf of the rest of the guys.

Jon, Robb and Theon had called her as well when they hadn't been able to get through to Sansa, and she'd assured them that their sister was fine. Arya was upset that Sansa had been caught up in the riot in the first place, and her concern for Sansa was real, but Arya still could not bring herself to speak to her. From the conversation she'd overheard her sister talking about with one of her friends on the phone, it sounded like she blamed Joffrey for her injury.

Arya had not liked the sound of that, but Sansa could deal with her own problems.

She wondered briefly, if there was any truth to the accusations Joffrey had been hurling at her in the quad the week before. At the time, Arya had watched in amusement, like everyone else, as Joffrey had accused Sansa of cheating on him with Theon Greyjoy of all people. Arya made a face, just thinking about Sansa and Theon together was wrong, wrong, wrong!

In any case, Sansa was too polite and proper to ever cheat on anyone.

Her thoughts drifted to Gendry. She was concerned about him too.

She was happy he'd stopped avoiding her. She hadn't noticed before how much she liked hanging around him, until he'd begun ignoring her. She hadn't lied to him when she'd admitted that she had missed him, even though he had probably asked as a joke.

She sighed.

By no means had they resolved the reason he'd ignored her to begin with. Gendry may have apologized for being a jerk regarding the fact she'd gone on a date with Jaqen, but they were going to have to talk about that one day soon, especially if she was going to continue dating Jaqen. Whatever Gendry had against Jaqen, he would have to deal with it. For the meantime, both of them were choosing not to say anything about it.

Arya had stared at the photos of Renly and Gendry for a long time after they had left Chateau Maegor that night. The snippet of the conversation she'd overheard between Renly and Robert Baratheon had continued to bug her since.

_"So, it's true then?"_

_"You will keep your mouth shut, if you know what's good for you."_

_"The resemblance is remarkable, don't you think?"_

_"Shut your trap, before I shut it for good!"_

Indeed she couldn't get over how alike Gendry and Renly looked. Not only did their faces look alike, but they resembled each other in build too. They were both over six feet tall, and though Gendry did not play football, he had the same muscular frame as Renly.

The one feature that really struck her, however, was the color of their eyes. They were the exact same shade of indigo blue…as was Robert Baratheon's.

_No way, _she had thought, even as the half-baked idea had formed in her mind. _It can't be possible, can it?_

Gendry had told her that he didn't know who his father was, and Arya was not so innocent that she didn't know about how married men fooled around behind their wives backs. Was it possible that Gendry could somehow be a long-lost Baratheon? Perhaps Renly's younger half-brother? If it weren't for the four-year age gap between them, she would have sworn they'd been separated at birth.

She'd told him her theory of course, but he'd laughed at it. Even after he'd told her that he had also thought of the possibility of being related to the Baratheon's.

She didn't know much about Gendry's past, she realized. He never talked about where he'd gone to school, or of his friends before he'd come to King's Landing. She'd tried to find out by asking him outright, but Gendry hadn't seemed all that interested in talking about himself.

She thought about how long she'd been friends with him, and was horrified to realize just how little she knew about him.

She found herself on Facebook, checking out Gendry's profile again, and frowning when she saw that the most recent activity on his wall showed him accepting friend requests from girls…lots of girls.

"Hey Gendry! Looking forward to seeing you at the Battle of The Bands!" A girl posted.

"Can't wait to see that bull tattoo of yours!" Wrote another girl.

Arya's frown deepened. She'd seen the bull tattoo on Gendry's arm before, and had even touched it. She wrinkled her nose when she thought of other girls doing the same thing.

_What did you expect? He's hot, he's got a tattoo and he's in a rock band, of course he's going to have heaps of female admirers._

She still didn't like the idea, no matter how she rationalized it.

There was a post on his wall from a guy with curly blonde hair called Lommy Greenhands.

"Gendry, dude! Where've you been hiding? We haven't seen you at the pool hall in months! Come visit us when you can, we're there every afternoon in case you've forgotten!"

Arya clicked on Lommy's profile and was surprised to find his page open to 'friends of friends'. She spent a bit of time trying to find out what she could about Gendry's other friends, and it didn't take her long to find photos of a slightly younger Gendry with Lommy. In one photo, they were in a pool hall, and a neon sign on the wall behind Gendry's head read 'Lucky 8'.

After some Googling, she found the address for the only 'Lucky 8' in King's Landing. It was in Flea Bottom, and Arya scratched her head. What had Gendry been doing hanging around in Flea Bottom?

She would find out. She'd have to take a trip into Flea Bottom and check out the 'Lucky 8' herself, and if she was lucky, she'd run into Gendry's friend Lommy Greenhands.

* * *

**Sandor**

He'd just come out of the building, carrying the sports bag with his football gear in it over his shoulder, when a small body came careening around the corner and smacked into his chest with so much force he dropped his bag.

As he had the previous times it had happened, he caught her by the shoulders and steadied her, while she cursed at him.

"Why the fuck is your giant ass always in my way, jerk?" Arya sniped at him when she'd caught her balance.

"Why do you keep throwing yourself at me, little bitch?" He returned, "That's three times, now. I'm almost convinced you want me."

"When hell freezes over!" She hit him, and her small fist connected with his bicep, right on his still-healing cut.

Sandor couldn't hold back his snarl of pain or the expression on his face that went with it.

"Bitch!" He roughly pushed back his sleeve to show her the bandage on his arm. "That'd be right, you would _know_ to hit where it hurts!"

"Oh, my gosh!" Arya's hand flew to her mouth, "I didn't know!"

The look of contriteness on her pretty face wiped the pain from his mind. Arya Stark looked like she was _sorry._

The situation was suddenly too bizarre and he found himself laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"You!" He barked, "You look like you actually _care_."

She hit him again, on his other arm this time.

"Fuck you, Hound!" She yelled at him, "I almost apologized!"

She shot him another glare, before continuing on her way.

He was still laughing when he picked up his dropped sports bag, and chuckling when he went down to the football field for training.

He felt eyes on him, and he turned towards the auditorium to see Sansa and her friend Jeyne watching him from the entrance. He was certain she'd observed his most recent run-in with Arya. She had a clear view of the building he'd just exited.

Maybe it was a good thing for her to see him laughing, and not just yelling at her sister, he thought.

His slightly jovial mood was quickly forgotten when he got to the football field and saw Joffrey, replaced with the urge to tear something apart with his bare hands.

Joffrey had called him the day after the riot, but it wasn't to ask him how he was. Joffrey did not care that Sandor had sustained an injury rescuing his girlfriend.

"My dwarf uncle tells me it was you who found Sansa,"

"What about it?" Sandor had known better than to show emotion.

"Why'd you go after her?" Joffrey had sounded suspicious.

Sandor had guarded his response. "Because, that's what friends do for their friends."

"Oh. Thanks." Joffrey misunderstood.

Sandor hadn't done it for him, either. But it was easier to let the blonde fool believe it.

He consoled himself with the knowledge that Sansa was angry with Joffrey, according to the gossiping cheerleaders he'd overheard talking at lunch.

"Sansa's still mad at me," Joffrey whined to him when Sandor stood next to him on the field.

"She'll get over it." He said.

"I don't know what else to do," Joffrey snorted. "She won't listen to me."

_Because you're an ass._

"Do what you want," Sandor shrugged, "I don't care."

He was almost too happy when Coach Selmy put him into a different team from Joffrey for that afternoon's drills, and he consoled himself further by tackling the blonde jerk harder than necessary.

After practice ended, Sandor took his time showering and changing in the locker room. Joffrey hadn't wanted to wait, and he'd left while Sandor was still in the shower. Sandor hadn't wanted to hang around him anyway, not in his present mood.

When he finally got out of the change rooms, almost all the guys had left, and no one bothered him as he turned to leave.

He was halfway down to the student parking lot when he noticed that students were only just exiting the auditorium, and Sansa was waving goodbye to Jeyne. He glanced at his watch, and figured choir practice must have run later than normal.

He weighed his immediate options, and figured he had nothing to lose.

He quickened his pace, and fell into step beside her when he'd caught up. She glanced at him, startled by his appearance.

"Hey," He said. "Choir practice went into overtime?"

Sansa looked up at him and smiled, "Hi, yeah it did."

Sandor noted that she was wearing her hair down, and she'd tried to hide the small bandage she was still wearing on her temple with her fringe.

"How was training?" She asked him.

"As it always is," He replied, "Coach Selmy wasn't pleased about the cut on my arm, but he thinks I should still be able to play at this week's game."

Sansa's eyes flicked to the new bandage that was peeping out from under his sleeve. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head, "No, not unless your sister's punching it."

Sansa made a face. "I'm sorry about Arya,"

"Don't be," He remembered his earlier encounter with Arya, and it made the corner of his mouth lift in a smile. "Can I give you a ride home?"

"Really?" Sansa had her phone in her hand, "I was just going to take a taxi."

"I'll take you home, you're on my way." He insisted.

"Okay." She smiled at him again, and he noted that she seemed nervous. "Thanks."

They walked in silence as he led her to his car, and once seated inside, he was surprised to hear Sansa ask him if he was hungry.

"Huh?"

"Do you…maybe want to grab a snack?" She repeated, "If you have time, that is."

He stared at her in surprise, aware that he was probably scowling as a result. Never in a million years would he have expected those words to come from her mouth, directed at him.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," She was saying, "I just wanted to say thank you…for what you did for me."

He knew what she meant.

Sandor looked at her for a moment longer, before he gave a nod.

"Okay," He started the engine, "Where to?"

"Do you like pizza?"

His lip twitched.

"I'm a teenage guy," He pointed out, "Of course I like pizza."

He drove them to his favorite pizza place. It wasn't in Flea Bottom, so he was taking a risk that someone would spot them together, but they weren't doing anything wrong. They were simply two friends grabbing a pizza after school.

Except that there was nothing simple about it, because _he_ was Sandor 'The Hound' Clegane, and _she_ was Sansa Stark. The Hound was not known for socializing, and Sansa should not be seen with any guy outside of Joffrey's company.

_Fuck it,_ he thought.

He wanted this. He wanted to be here with _her._

The little pizzeria was a throwback to an era when black and white linoleum tiles were popular, and when red vinyl covered booths were all the rage. Sitting across the booth from her, Sandor decided his best course of action was to stay silent unless she spoke to him first.

Silence was one of the mechanisms he employed when dealing with uncomfortable situations. The others were aggression, and defensiveness, and he would try to limit those reactions around her as much as he could help it.

They ordered a half-and-half pizza, and he learned her favorite topping was ham and pineapple, and she learned that he ate _everything_.

"Everything?" She asked.

"Everything," He repeated, "Being the size I am, and having Gregor as a brother, I learned to eat whatever was in front of me."

"That's eating for sustenance," She said, "What about eating for pleasure?"

Sandor knew what she was talking about, it was why he liked going to the _trattoria _so much, but there were…other things, besides eating that he preferred to do for pleasure, but he couldn't very well say that to her.

"Pizza," He opted to say instead, indicating the remaining slices left on the table, "And beer."

"Typical," She clucked her tongue.

"And a serious mashed potato with truffle oil."

That made her look up, "Truffle oil?"

His burned lip twitched. "I might look like a Neanderthal, but I didn't grow up in a cave."

She giggled at that, and he decided he liked the sound. He could also see that his statement had made her thoughtful, and he could tell that she was curious about him.

For a few moments, he allowed himself to pretend that he really was on a date with Sansa, and that he had every right to be enjoying the sound of her laughter. He pretended that she was sitting there with him, not because she was thanking him for rescuing her, but for no other reason than just wanting to be with him.

She asked him some more questions, and they talked about school, movies and TV shows they'd seen, and Sandor lapped up her attention. He didn't question whether her interest was genuine, or borne out of politeness. For the moment, it was enough that she was there, with him.

For the briefest instant, he let himself think that maybe…just maybe, there was a small chance she might be able to look past his scars and see him for himself, and he imagined that she felt for him the way he felt about her.

_What would it take for you to dump Joffrey? _He wondered, but his pragmatic self interjected, bringing him back to reality. _Even if she dumped that blonde prick, what makes you think she'll take you?_

"Thank you, Sandor." Sansa was saying, "I should have come to you right after…it was brave of you to come after me."

He gave her a curt nod in acknowledgement, thinking that reality truly had a nasty way of bringing one crashing back to earth.

* * *

**Sansa**

She'd been cold around Joffrey the past few days, but it hadn't stopped him from planting kisses on her unresponsive lips. Only her unwillingness to create a public scene had kept her from pushing him away from her.

Sansa had been hoping to speak with Randa about the best way to break up with a boy, but her present company meant she wouldn't get that chance.

The girls were talking about boys, and relationships and sex. The boys hadn't arrived at their usual table yet, and Randa, Mya and Ros were making the most of their absence to discuss the merits of different penis shapes and sizes.

The presence of Ros made her uncomfortable all of a sudden, as the busty cheerleader had never made a secret of her attraction for Sandor. Sansa felt a rush of dislike for the girl, although she had never done anything to her. It was because she did not want anyone else looking or thinking about Sandor in that regard.

Sansa and Jeyne had so far been sitting there dumbfounded. Although Sansa had read enough girly magazines to know that the male population really was so varied in size and shape, talking to girls with firsthand experience was quite another thing.

"Who do you think has the biggest cock on the team?" Ros suddenly asked.

"Ros!" Randa exclaimed, "What kind of question is that?"

"A good one," Ros replied, "And don't deny that each of you hasn't thought about it at least once!"

"She's right," Mya grinned wickedly, "My money's on the Hound."

Sansa gasped loudly while the girls laughed, and Jeyne pretended not to be listening.

"I don't want to hear it! I'll never be able to look him in the face again!" Jeyne cried.

"Come on," Mya continued, "The guy's huge! It's a safe bet that he's _huge_ all over!"

"Does size really matter?" Jeyne asked.

"It's not the size it's how you use it." Mya said.

"How many ways are there to use it?" Sansa asked.

The girls laughed so hard at her question that Randa had to hold onto the table to keep herself upright.

"That's right, you're still a virgin," Mya said.

"How have you stayed a virgin with Joffrey as your boyfriend?" Ros wondered.

"Just say no?" Sansa offered.

The girls laughed again. The truth, Sansa realized, was that she'd never felt the desire to want to have sex with Joffrey.

"But you must have thought about it, right?"

"Sure, I guess." Sansa was starting to sweat.

"What do you think it would be like with Joffrey?"

"I really don't know…" Sansa was blushing now.

"Well, I'm not embarrassed to admit I've imagined what sex would be like with the Hound," Ros confessed.

There was more laughter and eye-rolling from the girls, but it was forced on Sansa's part.

"Me too," Mya made a face, "But don't you dare tell Lothor!"

"All right fine, me too," Randa owned up, "But in my defense I'm a red-blooded female and the guy with his shirt off is smoking hot!"

"Plus all that raw, latent aggression makes me think he'll be dynamite in bed!" Ros squealed.

Sansa was clenching her fists into the folds of her skirt now. She was uncomfortable about the topic of conversation, but also aware that she had been having similar thoughts about Sandor, and jealousy was prickling her belly at hearing the other girls talk about him this way.

"…I'm telling the truth," Jeyne was saying, "The guy intimidates me…I'm not going there!"

"What about you, Sansa?"

She couldn't believe it. Were they really asking her if she'd thought of Sandor in a sexual manner?

"No," She lied, "I'm with Joffrey. I'd never think about Sandor that way."

Her answer had come too quick, and too forcefully from her lips. Jeyne and Randa's eyes narrowed on her, so she licked her lips and felt she had to elaborate.

Ros was watching her now too, and again Sansa was all too aware of how the older girl felt about Sandor. At the back of her mind was also the memory of Joffrey's temper, and his jealousy. She wouldn't risk any of this conversation getting back to Joffrey and have him find something to get angry about.

She had to break up with him as soon as possible.

"Really…I couldn't think of him like that! He's a friend, I think…and he kind of frightens me." She made herself say.

"Really?"

"I know he's Joffrey's friend, and I've tried to get to know him, but sometimes when he looks at me, I just want to run from him…"

"Does he scare you that much?" Randa asked with her brow raised, but her eyes were asking another question.

Sansa chose to ignore the question in the older girl's penetrative gaze.

"Sometimes," She chose instead to say, because that was the truth.

"You're just too perfect, aren't you?" Ros sighed, "You're too loyal to Joffrey, and he doesn't deserve you."

The conversation turned to something else, and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. She agreed with Ros's last statement. Joffrey did not deserve her.

Sansa's phone beeped as a new text message was received. Similarly, a chorus of beeps and tones echoed through the quad as almost everyone received text messages simultaneously.

Like everyone around her, Sansa reached for her phone.

"It's an alert from the Gossip Spyder," Randa said, "Wonder what goss just came in!"

Sansa selected the link from the text message, and read the post.

Her hand stilled, and her breath stuck in her throat as her blood grew colder with every word she read…

* * *

**Cliffhanger again…yeah, I know you hate those…**

**Don't worry, I won't make you wait over a week to see the next update, I promise!**


	12. Episode 12 The Longest Day

**Okay everyone, you were warned from the very start that **_**this**** pairing **_**would happen at some point…that moment is here…*big deep breaths* …In the true spirit of Gossip Girl – our couples could always do with more drama!**

**This is a loooong chapter, so take your time – I may not be able to update for a while.**

* * *

**Episode 12**

"**The Longest Day"**

**Gossip Spyder**

A little spy has let me know that a certain Stark sister was spotted far from home yesterday afternoon with a mystery guy. Joffrey, perhaps you should be worried about an unwelcome dog sniffing around your territory?

Sansa, how was that ham and pineapple pizza? I heard your male _friend_ let you have a couple of slices before he inhaled the rest! Who is he, Sansa? We'd all like to know!

Stay tuned peeps! I sense trouble!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Sandor**

Sandor had just rounded the corner and was about to enter the quad when he heard girlish laughter floating towards him. He heard snatches of a conversation involving certain parts of a guy's anatomy and he was about to turn around to find another way to the quad when he recognized one of the voices as belonging to Sansa Stark.

He paused just behind the wall of the building, where he couldn't be seen.

"Does size really matter?" A girl asked.

"It's not the size it's how you use it."

"How many ways are there to use it?" He heard Sansa ask.

She was met with peals of laughter. Sandor stood still, knowing he should back away immediately. He should not be eavesdropping on what was clearly a private conversation.

"That's right, you're still a virgin," Someone said to Sansa.

"How have you stayed a virgin with Joffrey as your boyfriend?"

"Just say no?" Came Sansa's reply.

_Back away now._ He told himself as Sansa's answer was met with more laughs. His feet did not move.

"But you must have thought about it, right?"

"Sure, I guess."

"What do you think it would be like with Joffrey?"

"I really don't know…"

"Well, I'm not embarrassed to admit I've imagined what sex would be like with the Hound,"

Sandor tilted his head. Had he heard that correctly? Who the hell said that?

"Me too…But don't you dare tell Lothor!"

"All right fine, me too! But in my defense I'm a red-blooded female and the guy with his shirt off is smoking hot!"

"Plus all that raw, latent aggression makes me think he'll be dynamite in bed!"

_Seriously?_ Surely he'd heard it wrong. Was he being mocked?

"I'm telling the truth. The guy intimidates me…I'm not going there!" Said another girl.

_That's sound more like it._ Whoever that girl was, she had sense.

"What about you, Sansa?"

Sandor's ears perked up. This he had to hear.

"No," He heard Sansa say, "I'm with Joffrey. I'd never think about Sandor that way."

He felt his stomach drop.

"Really…I couldn't think of him like that! He's a friend, I think…and he kind of frightens me." Sansa continued to speak.

"Really?" Someone asked her.

"I know he's Joffrey's friend, and I've tried to get to know him, but sometimes when he looks at me, I just want to run from him…"

"Does he scare you that much?"

"Sometimes,"

Sandor felt her words like a kick in the guts.

Willing himself to move, he stepped away from the building and stalked off angrily, not wanting to hear anymore.

_I'd never think about Sandor that way…He kind of frightens me…I just want to run from him…he frightens me…I want to run from him._

The words he had heard circled around and around in his head. Whatever friendship he'd imagined was forming with Sansa, whatever trust he imagined she had in him…it was all bullshit. Lies.

"…_He's Joffrey's friend, I've tried getting to know him…"_

Was Sansa only being nice to him because he was Joffrey's friend? The thought created a fury inside him, and he punched a locker as he passed, causing the whole bank of them to rattle and people around him to jump.

He would have been able to handle it if all she'd said was she'd never pictured herself having sex with him. He would have expected that, even. But she hadn't left it at that.

He didn't want to believe it. He'd thought she was better than that. She was the one who'd called him _friend _first. He'd been starting to believe it, too.

And yet he'd heard the words straight from her mouth.

_He frightens me…I want to run from him._

There was no way in hell Sansa Stark could possibly feel for him what he was feeling for her.

His phone buzzed as he received a new text message, and he welcomed the distraction when he found it was an alert from the Gossip Spyder.

Until he read the content.

His blood froze in his veins.

"Fuck!" He punched another locker, sending some freshmen running.

Moments later, he saw Joffrey coming down the hall with Trant and Blount trailing after him. The situation suddenly became much worse.

Joffrey spotted him and stopped in front of him.

"Have you read it?" Joffrey demanded.

Sandor nodded warily.

"If I find out that little bitch has been seeing someone behind my back…or I find out who this fucker is, they'll both pay. But her, especially. She's mine until I say otherwise!" Joffrey snarled, before storming out into the quad.

* * *

**Arya**

The text alert from the Gossip Spyder came at lunch time, and almost as one, all the students in the quad reached for their phones to see what had been posted.

Arya, Gendry and Hot Pie all swore when they read the Gossip Spyder's alert, and immediately, the entire quad was abuzz with talking students.

"Shit!" Arya looked up from her phone and her eyes immediately landed on the table across the quad where her sister was suddenly looking very pale.

"It's not true though, is it?" Hot Pie asked, leaning in to speak into Arya's ear.

"Of course it's not," Arya replied immediately.

"How do you know?" Gendry asked cautiously.

"She's _perfect _Sansa, that's why." Arya answered, "It's not something she would do."

The cafeteria doors flew open just then, and Joffrey Baratheon burst through them, followed closely by the Hound, Trant and Blount.

"_Sansa!_"Joffrey bellowed loud and clear for every student in the quad to hear.

Arya narrowed her eyes. She didn't like this at all.

The look on Joffrey's face and the meanness in his eyes made her more than wary, and a quick glance at Sansa's face showed that she looked worried, and very upset.

Sansa rushed to meet the blonde halfway, and immediately she began pulling him away from the quad.

"Not here, Joffrey, please!"

"Is this true?" Joffrey ignored her, "Have you been seeing someone behind my back? Who the fuck is he?"

Sansa's eyes seemed to flock over Joffrey's shoulder, but the only person there was Sandor Clegane. The big brute glared back at her, and Sansa paled even further.

"Of course I haven't Joffrey!"

"Then why the hell is the Spyder saying you are? Where were you yesterday afternoon?"

"I was at choir practice!" Sansa was getting more and more upset as every student turned to watch. "I went straight home afterwards, I swear!"

Arya inhaled sharply, and Gendry turned to her.

"What's the matter?" He asked her.

"She's _lying_." Arya whispered to him.

Sansa had not come home until close to seven p.m. the night before. Choir practice would have ended at about four-thirty.

"Then who was she with?" Hot Pie whispered.

Arya shrugged, and all three of them turned to watch as Sansa managed to convince Joffrey to stand at the tree on the other side of the quad, out of hearing distance, but still within sight. It was the same tree they had been arguing behind the previous week.

Unlike the last time, Arya was not finding this argument funny. There was something about their expressions, and the way that they were standing that put her on edge.

She stole a look at the Hound, then at the two girls who'd come to stand behind him, Jeyne Poole and a cheerleader called Miranda or Myranda. All of them wore serious expressions.

There was a sharp collective gasp, and Arya turned around to see that Joffrey had taken a grip of Sansa's wrists, holding them in front of her tightly.

"Jesus." Hot Pie shook his head.

Sansa didn't look to be making a sound, but Arya knew her better. There was a tightness to her sister's features that she recognized as a look of pain. Arya herself had put that her expression on her sister's face numerous times in the past.

"He's hurting her!" She found herself standing up, but Gendry's own hand was suddenly tight around her wrist.

She looked at him in shock. "Gendry, what are you doing?"

"If she screams, I'll let you go to her. I'll even come with you," He met her eyes, and his were as determined as hers. "This is not your fight, Arya."

"But she needs help!"

"Perhaps, but you won't be helping her if you go over there and make a bigger scene," Gendry pointed out, "In case you didn't notice, a scene is what she was trying to avoid."

Arya looked over at her sister and Joffrey again, and she saw that Sansa was talking very quickly, and she'd somehow managed to twist her fingers into the front of Joffrey's shirt. She could tell that Sansa was pleading, possibly begging.

She hated seeing her sister doing that. She wanted nothing more than to see her well rid of the loathsome blonde prick. But for whatever reason, Sansa was choosing to stay with Joffrey.

_Stupid, stupid girl._

After a length of time, Joffrey released Sansa's wrist and Arya felt the tension lift.

She watched as Joffrey took her sister into his arms and as he kissed her. For the second time, Sansa had managed to calm his temper, but Arya knew how easily Sansa bruised. Her wrists would definitely be purple by the evening.

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa stood stiffly in Joffrey's arms clenching her eyes tight. She didn't want to cry in front of everyone, and not in Joffrey's arms. It was the last place in the world that she wanted to be in, and yet she was _still_ there.

She couldn't get herself away from him. She'd had her chance. She could have broken up with him when he'd accused her of cheating, but she hadn't.

It would have been the fastest way to ensure people believed she had been cheating on him. Sansa Stark had honor, and she _did not cheat_.

"Don't cry, Sansa." Joffrey said above her head. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't, Joffrey." She said flatly, but a tear rolled down her cheek nevertheless.

He had hurt her, and he'd meant to do it. She was certain of that.

Her forearms ached from where he'd gripped her, but it wasn't why she was tearing up.

She was disappointed in herself, and at her inability to rid herself of Joffrey Baratheon. She was disgusted at the fact she'd once again resorted to pleading and cajoling him from his seething jealousy, until he was calm again and convinced once more of her unswerving loyalty and affection.

Now she was going to have to pretend for a little while longer that nothing was wrong, just until the rumors of her cheating on him died down.

She never normally cared what people thought of her, but in this she felt very strongly.

She was determined that nobody would ever believe she was capable of being unfaithful to anyone, including Joffrey.

It really shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that someone had spotted her and Sandor together. Her red hair was a dead giveaway, and if it wasn't that, then Sandor's scars certainly would have.

Her first reaction upon reading the post was noticing that Sandor had not been named. That was curious. Maybe he hadn't been recognized? He'd only been referred to as a _mystery guy_, and for that she had been thankful. He wouldn't have to be dragged into her and Joffrey's crap, not if she could avoid it.

She'd mentally prepared herself for Joffrey's temper, so that when he'd barged through the cafeteria doors, she'd somewhat been ready to face him.

What she hadn't been prepared for was the look on Sandor's face when she'd glanced at him over Joffrey's shoulder.

He had been furious, and that had shocked her. To think that his fury had been directed at her had made her blanch. She didn't understand why he'd look at her like that.

She hadn't done anything to cause that anger, and his name hadn't been mentioned in the post. No one would have to know that she had been with him at the pizzeria. No one would have to gossip about him.

So she had lied to Joffrey, lied about where she had been the previous afternoon. Denied every accusation he'd thrown at her, and made sure Sandor's name never came up.

Then Joffrey had grabbed at her wrists, and a very real fear had swept over her at the expression she'd seen in Joffrey's eyes. He was strong, and he hadn't held back his strength.

"You have to believe me," She'd said to him just moments before, "Why would I want anyone else, when I have you?"

"Then why would the Spyder say that you've been spotted with some other guy?"

"I don't know, Joff," She'd said, "Maybe someone's jealous of us and wants to create problems between us?"

She'd pacified him, eventually, and now he stood with his arms around her, and kissing the side of her face.

"I don't like hurting you, Sansa," Joffrey whispered into her ear, and his fingers cut into her flesh slightly. "I just hate being made a fool of, do you know what I mean?"

Sansa stiffened at his words.

There was no mistaking them for anything other than the threat that it was.

"I know, Joffrey," She forced herself to say, "I'm sorry."

When they eventually made their way back to the table, Sansa was aware of all eyes hastily turning away from them.

She was startled to find herself meeting Arya's eyes for a brief moment, and noted that Arya had a look of concern on her face. Sansa blinked and looked away.

She was so close to being able to speak to her sister. She missed Arya. That was one more reason she had for wanting to break up with Joffrey as soon as possible. She wanted to be able to have a conversation with her sister again.

Reaching their table, Sansa noted immediately that Sandor had disappeared. She was unhappy that he'd fled, but also relieved he hadn't stuck around.

It would have been hard to face his anger, and whatever had caused it.

It would have been harder still, to be so close to the guy she really wanted to be with, knowing she'd promised to be faithful to someone she was coming to detest.

* * *

**Arya**

After school, Arya watched as her sister got into a car with her friend Jeyne, glad that she wasn't with Joffrey. The guy needed time to cool off.

She turned towards the football field where she could see the team beginning their training, and hoped for some kind of accident or injury to befall Joffrey Baratheon. That was quite evil of her to wish such a thing, but the jerk deserved it. She hadn't been able to shake the uneasiness she'd felt since witnessing their argument at lunch.

She released a breath. She wanted desperately to smack her sister across the head, grab her by her shoulders and shake her while yelling at her to _wake up_ from whatever hold Joffrey seemed to have on her.

Instead, she shook her head and told herself once again that there was nothing she could do.

Then she went in search of Hot Pie and convinced him to drop her off at Harrenhal Mall, as Gendry had gone to band practice. From the mall she would catch a taxi to Flea Bottom, and hunt down Lommy Greenhands at the 'Lucky 8'.

Her phone rang as she was walking through the mall to reach the taxi ranks, and her lips curved into a smile when she saw who was calling.

"Hi, Jaqen," She said, "How are you?"

"I'm very well, lovely girl," He replied, and Arya let the sound of his voice rumble through her, "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Really?"

"Truly," He laughed, "It's been over a week since I saw you, Arya. It really is quite inconvenient that you go to a different school."

"Are you telling me that you miss me?"

"Hmm," He hummed a noise of agreement, "I guess I am."

"Oh, I…" Her cheeks flushed pink, and she was grateful he couldn't see her.

"Sweet girl, don't feel obliged to have to say it back," He said gently.

"But, I do miss you," She blurted out, and it was true.

"Then I am very glad to hear it," Jaqen laughed. "I'm very distracted these days, and my school work is suffering because of you."

"I don't believe that,"

"Not to mention my music…"

"Now I _really_ don't believe _that_!"

"I'm serious! I've been trying to write lyrics for a new song, and all I can think of is trying to find lyrics that rhyme with Arya,"

She giggled, "And how's that working out?"

"Not very well," Jaqen admitted, "Listen…_Arya, how are ya, I'd like to get to know ya, got caught up in your mania, I'd do anything for ya_."

Arya laughed so loudly that she attracted curious looks from passersby. "That's awful!"

"I told you," He sighed dramatically, "You're in my head constantly, and ruining my concentration."

"What can I do about it?" She sensed him turn serious again at her question.

"I know you have had a lot going on recently," He began, "But I was wondering if you had given more thought to our second date? When can I see you again? Perhaps you could give me something to look forward to?"

She knew Jaqen had a schedule busier than hers. After all, he was a performing artist, and he helped his aunt and uncle out at the House of Black & White, as well as still being in high school. He had a lot of commitments going on, and it appeared he was willing to make some kind of commitment to her as well.

Thinking about it caused butterflies in her stomach, realizing he was probably expecting her to make a similar commitment to him.

"How about this Saturday?" She asked.

"I have a gig in the evening, but I'm all yours until three in the afternoon."

"Then, would you like to have a late breakfast with me?" She suggested, "There's this pancake and waffle place I've been wanting to go to."

Arya had given their second date some thought, particularly after she'd told him she wanted to choose their next activity, but she hadn't gotten past the food part. However, it didn't seem to matter what she might have suggested, judging by Jaqen's response.

"I would go with you anywhere, Arya Stark," He said, "I just want to spend some time with you."

The guy certainly knew how to take a girl's breath away, she thought after ending the call. He'd told her he would pick her up on Saturday morning, and she'd smiled stupidly to herself as she walked towards the taxi ranks.

Getting into the first available taxi, Arya pushed aside her growing excitement for her next date with Jaqen, in order to concentrate on playing amateur sleuth, and trying to find answers and clues about Gendry's past.

_Why is he so reluctant to talk about his past, anyway?_ She wondered.

The driver gave her a strange look when she gave him the address she wanted to go to, but nevertheless, he drove her there and took her money.

"Be careful, young lady," The man had said, before driving away.

Arya looked up and down the street. The sun had yet to set, and in the afternoon light she could see that the buildings were in various stages of disrepair. The styles of the buildings were old fashioned. On the way in she'd noted that the place had a ramshackle appearance about it, as though the structures and roads had been built outside the control of town planners, which was probably the case, given what she'd heard about the place.

Arya stared at the faded paintwork of the 'Lucky 8' pool hall, took a deep breath, and pushed through the glass doors. It was dim inside, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but when they did, she noticed that most of the patrons were young men and teenage boys.

A good deal of them looked at her when she walked in, and most of them kept watching her as she made her way to the counter.

From what she could see, there was one main hall that had a dozen billiard tables arranged in three rows of four along the room. There were two flat screen TV's mounted up on the wall, both tuned to sports channels, and speakers tucked into recesses in the walls.

Cool white, florescent lighting hung from the ceiling above each table, reflecting off the green felt and giving the whole place a greenish glow.

A middle-aged man behind the counter looked at Arya curiously, but his smile was kind enough.

"Can I help you, little lady?" He asked her.

Arya didn't like being called either little, or lady, and this man had called her both, but she returned his smile anyway.

"I'm looking for Lommy," She replied. "Is he here?"

"Sure is," The man leaned back from the counter and shouted over the top of Arya's head, "Lommy! Get over here!"

The group of teenage boys at the very back of the hall looked their way, and a gangly, curly haired blonde dressed in ripped jeans and a t-shirt separated himself from the group. He eyed her curiously as he approached the counter.

"Yeah, Bruce?"Lommy looked from Arya to Bruce.

"This little lady here's looking for you," Bruce said, "I'll leave you to it."

Lommy gazed at Arya curiously, not bothering to hide his appraisal as he eyed her up and down. Arya did the same with him, guessing he was around Gendry's age.

"Do I know you?" He asked her. "You look familiar."

"No, you don't know me." She replied, unsure how to go about asking questions regarding Gendry without coming off all stalker-like.

"Why are you looking for me, then?" He turned back to his friends, who'd all stopped playing to watch Lommy speak to the pretty stranger, "I've got a game to finish."

"You know Gendry Waters, right?"

Lommy's eyes narrowed further, "Yeah, why?"

"I was hoping I could ask you some questions about him," She said.

"Are you his girlfriend?"

"No, I'm not."

"An ex-girlfriend?"

"No!" Arya snapped, "I'm just his friend, okay?"

"Have you seen Gendry recently?" Lommy wondered.

"Yes, just today at school."

"Well, when you see him next," Lommy gave her a look, "Smack him in the head for me and tell him he's a douchebag."

"What? Why?" Arya asked, surprised.

"Because we haven't seen him here since he moved away,"

"Moved away?" Arya was getting more questions than answers, "From where?"

"From River's Edge," Lommy replied, "He moved houses, and he transferred out of River's Edge High."

"_Gendry used to live in River's Edge? Flea Bottom?" _Arya exclaimed.

Lommy was now watching her carefully.

"Who are you?" Lommy demanded, "What's your name?"

"I'm not telling you my name," She replied.

She didn't know if the Gossip Spyder's eyes and ears reached as far as Flea Bottom.

"Then I'm not answering anymore questions," Lommy turned to leave.

Arya grabbed his shirt sleeve. "Wait,"

Lommy looked at her hand, and she let go of his shirt.

"Sorry," She said, "I'll play you,"

"What?"

"I'll play you," She repeated, and nodded towards a pool table, "Eight-ball. If I win, you answer all my questions about Gendry."

Lommy stared at her a moment, and Arya could see him trying to work out what her deal was.

"And if I win? What do I get out of this?"

"Fifty bucks," Arya replied, pulling out some notes from her pocket to show she had cash.

He grinned at her, "You're on!"

Lommy then led her toward the table where all his friends were still watching them, and he quickly brought them up to speed. The four teenage boys all laughed.

"You're kidding, right?" One of them said.

"She's doing this for dirt on Gendry?"

"This should be entertaining…"

Arya refused to acknowledge that she was nervous. She knew how to play pool. Her father had owned a billiard table back at Winterfell Manor, and she had watched the men in her family play countless games in the past.

She'd had the best teacher in Uncle Benjen who'd taught her to play when she was ten years old. She had kept her skills sharp by playing against Robb and Jon, but it was from Theon that she had learnt the subtle art of hustling.

Arya had watched as his unsuspecting high-school buddies would come over, and Robb and Jon would watch as Theon would lose games on purpose to build up his opponent's confidence. Then someone would suggest they play for money, and that's when Theon would rob them blind.

It was never about the money for Theon. For him, it was about manipulation.

Arya was about to attempt it for herself. Except she only had one game to pull it off.

Someone handed her a cue stick, and the balls were setup on the table. They flipped a coin, and Lommy called heads to break.

It was tails, and Arya lined up the cue ball and broke, sending sixteen balls scattering across the green felt. She determined striped balls. Breathing, she sank her first ball, picking the easiest shot. She selected the next easiest shot, and missed her second turn on purpose, fouling the shot.

Lommy and his friends smirked.

"This will be the easiest fifty bucks I ever made!" Lommy stated.

Crossing her fingers behind her back, Arya hoped she hadn't underestimated the guy's skills. After all, she'd never seen him play, and she knew he played every day.

She baited him into becoming overconfident. "Go on, then. Show me how it's supposed to be done."

"All right," The blonde grinned.

He called some ridiculous shot, sending a ball bouncing off three sides of the table before sinking it into a middle pocket.

_Shit._

"Do it again," She raised her brow in a challenge.

"Don't do it, Lommy," Cautioned of his friends, "She's trying to get you to do something stupid."

Fortunately, Lommy ignored his friend's advice. He missed his second shot, misjudging the angle by a smidgen.

"Damn!" He swore.

Arya smiled at him, showing all of her little pointy teeth. "That's a shame,"

She approached the table, lined up the cue with her next object ball…and proceeded to clean up.

"Oh, shit!" Lommy's friends laughed as Arya sank ball after ball.

"Oh, noooo!"Lommy wailed helplessly.

"She played you!"

At last, Arya had nothing left but the eight ball to sink. "Far right corner pocket," She called, and struck.

"You little weasel," Lommy said as the black eight ball fell into the pocket she'd called. "You hustled me,"

"Did not," Arya smirked, "You never asked if I knew how to play."

Shaking his head, Lommy held out his hand for her to take, and after only a second's hesitation, Arya shook it.

"Nice one," He said, "For a girl, you play like a dude."

"Thanks,"

"So, what name can I call you, since you won't give me your real name?"

"You can call me Weasel," She smiled.

He laughed, then introduced her to the rest of his friends. Arya patiently said hello to all of them, then asked if they were thirsty.

"I'm buying," She said, and received a chorus of 'hell yeah' in response.

She went back to the counter, and purchased several bottles of sodas as well as bags of chips and chocolate bars from Bruce's snack selection for Lommy and his friends. Arya had belatedly remembered that these guys were Gendry's friends too.

Now seated around a table overcrowded with junk food, Lommy couldn't hold back his own curiosity any longer.

"What is Gendry to you, Weasel?" He asked, "What do you want to know?"

Arya picked her words carefully. "He's a good friend of mine, though I haven't known him that long. He doesn't talk much about himself. That's why I'm here."

"You like him, don't you?"

"As a friend,"

"Sure, I believe you." Lommy rolled his eyes, "So, ask away. You won that game and that was the deal."

Arya licked her lips, and started with an easy one. "How long have you known Gendry?"

"Since we were in kindergarten," Lommy replied, "That's why I'm kinda annoyed at him for not coming to see us since the beginning of summer when he moved away."

"Did you know his mom?"

"I think I might have met her once, but she died a long time ago. Gendry's been living with foster families a long time, but he's been with the Motts the longest."

"And he really lived here, in Flea Bottom?"

"Sure did," Lommy replied, "The Motts rented an apartment about six blocks down."

Arya frowned.

"You go to King's Landing Prep, right?" Lommy asked, and she nodded, "So you're from a rich family then. You've got money."

"I guess," She said, uncomfortable about the turn in the topic.

"You don't seem like a snob," Lommy stated.

"Should I be?"

"I expected you to be a snob," He said, "But you're not."

"Where are you going with this?"

Lommy mirrored her frown, "Gendry was one of us…and then he found out someone had left him some money, and now that he's rich it's like he's turned his back on us. He's turned into a snob."

Arya managed to swallow her gasp. _Gendry inherited money?_

"That doesn't sound like Gendry," She said instead.

Lommy shrugged. "Maybe what they say is true. Money changes people."

"I thought Mr. Mott must have been like a mid-level manager or something," Arya muttered, thinking about the grand house with the funny statues at the entrance.

"Mr. Mott works on the production floor, some kind of supervisor I think," Lommy said, "But he's definitely not a manager."

"So, you're saying Gendry paid for his foster-family's new house?"

"It seems that way," Lommy shrugged, "He didn't really stick around long enough to tell us the details."

Arya's brain was churning over the things she'd just learned. It wasn't the Mott's who were well-off, it was Gendry who had money. But _who_ had bequeathed him that money in the first place?

"Did Gendry ever suspect who might have left him the money?"

Again, Lommy shrugged, "Gendry figured it had to be someone on his father's side. His mom had been a waitress, and his mom's parents had been long dead before he was born."

She sat in silence for some moments while Lommy tore into a bag of chips. Why would Gendry hide something like this? Why would he stop speaking to his friends whom he'd known since childhood? It didn't make sense.

"You know, Gendry's in a band again," She began, "They've entered the Battle of The Bands competition that starts next weekend."

"I know," Lommy nodded, "It's all over his Facebook wall. We were thinking of going, but I'm not sure he'd want us there,"

"Of course he would!"

"We'll think about it," Lommy indicated the other guys.

Bruce came up to their table then, and smiled at them. "How's everything, kids?"

"Great," Lommy smiled back, "Weasel here's asking us about Gendry,"

"Gendry, huh?" Bruce raised his brow, "Popular boy, that one. You're the second person that's come in here asking questions about him."

"I am?" Arya stared at the man, startled. "Who was the first person?"

"Some fellow. Came in a few weeks back, probably in his thirties, dark haired…Jordy something," Bruce rubbed his chin, "I know! His name was Johnny Castle!"

Johnny Castle? Arya wondered, and then her eyes widened in realization.

"_Jory Cassel!"_

"Yes, that's it," Bruce smiled.

Her mind was racing now, connecting the dots. If Jory had been asking questions about Gendry, it meant he was doing so under her father's instructions. She wasn't silly. She knew her father often conducted background searches on new acquaintances.

Jory was good at his job, he definitely would have found something. Which meant her father would know everything there was to know about Gendry.

Now, how would she get Jory or her father to tell her what they knew?

* * *

**Sandor**

He stumbled into his car after football practice that afternoon, wondering how the hell he even made it through the session. The entire time, he'd wanted to rush at Joffrey and separate his head from his torso.

"Save your aggression for tomorrow night," Coach Selmy had said, reprimanding him for his excessive use of it during training.

He sat behind the steering wheel of his Mustang and just sat and stared ahead of him without seeing anything. He was too angry for allowing himself to believe that there could be anything between him and Sansa Stark.

He'd let her get under his skin. He'd allowed himself to be taken in by her beautiful face, pretty smile and the sweet words that fell from her perfect lips.

He'd mocked her once for her manners and her politeness and how she never seemed to say anything meaningful, only what other people wanted to hear. She hadn't changed in that regard, but he'd thought…_he'd felt_…that she was different with him.

He had been deluding himself.

Swearing, he started the engine and began to drive. Halfway home, he changed his mind and took the exit that would take him to Flea Bottom. He was hungry, and no offense to his housekeeper, but he was sick of her cooking. He needed a drink too, and it was easier to find a place in Flea Bottom that would serve him alcohol without asking for ID.

Sandor parked his car in the secure underground garage and swapped his letterman jacket for the black leather bomber he kept in the back seat. He was aware that he already looked older than his eighteen years, but black leather seemed to add a few more years on him.

His first stop was at a small diner to grab a burger and fries. He wasn't completely out of his head that he'd drink on an empty stomach. After that, he walked past a pool hall and headed to the hole-in-the-wall bar he frequented every now and then.

The man behind the bar looked him over when he sat himself down on the stool in front of him, but Sandor met the man's eyes without flinching, glaring back until the barman was forced to look away first.

"What'll it be?" The man asked him.

"Scotch and soda," Sandor said, pleased that his voice came out lower and raspier than normal.

A tumbler was placed in front of him, and Sandor finally allowed himself to get lost in his pity-party of one.

It occurred to him as he drank, that he'd picked up the taste for alcohol during his association with Joffrey Baratheon and his family. Joffrey was a spoilt brat, and neither his mother nor father ever seemed to tell him no. If Joffrey had wanted a party, his parents would let him use one of the guest houses, and pay for everything, including the alcohol that always flowed freely.

Joffrey liked beer as much any guy, but because he had money, he had always supplied the best kind of beers. Sandor had drunk beers from all over the world as a result. The spirits and liqueurs he'd had were always the best money could buy.

Sandor had even learned to drink wine. Joffrey had made him come along when his Uncle Jaime had held a wine appreciation afternoon once, and he'd learned to tell the difference between cat piss, and a great vintage. He preferred reds to whites.

_It seems you prefer redheads now, too._ He mused, annoyed.

He'd picked up that habit from a fucking Baratheon as well.

Sandor hadn't expected to become best buddies with Sansa after sharing a pizza with her. He'd had a good time, and from the way she'd been smiling at him, he thought she'd been having fun too. He'd thought she'd stopped being wary of him, particularly after the way she'd been clinging to him after he'd rescued her from the riot.

But the things he'd heard her say proved otherwise. Whatever he might have expected, he wasn't prepared for her reminding him of exactly who, and what he was.

"_He's a friend, I think…"_

Meaning, she wasn't sure if he was? He'd put himself at risk to come after her during the riot. Hadn't he proven himself?

_"He kind of frightens me…I know he's Joffrey's friend, and I've tried to get to know him, but sometimes when he looks at me, I just want to run from him…"_

_"Does he scare you that much?"_

_"Sometimes,"_

After everything, she was still scared of him.

He'd asked himself earlier whether Sansa was only being nice to him because he was Joffrey's friend. The answer to that was a resounding, yes.

Sansa accepted him into her life, because of Joffrey Baratheon. If Joffrey wasn't in the picture, there would never have been a reason for Sansa Stark to ever need speak to him.

If she looked at him, at his scarred face, it was because her perfect manners stipulated that she do so. If she took him out for pizza to thank him, it was because she was being polite. Because he was Joffrey's _friend._

As proof, he'd watched, along with every student that had been in the quad at lunch earlier that day, as Sansa had professed her faithfulness and loyalty to the blonde jerk.

She'd even lied to Joffrey, denying ever going for pizza with anyone, to appease the guy's temper. Sandor had been prepared to face Joffrey's temper and own up to being the guy seen with Sansa, even though he hadn't been named, but before he'd been able to say anything, Sansa had already denied all of it.

She'd kept him out of the whole thing, as though the conversations and the laughs and smiles they'd shared had never happened. It had hurt to have her disregard him so easily.

_She put you back in your place quick enough. _He told himself angrily. _Don't forget that you're Joffrey's loyal Hound._

What the hell had he been thinking, allowing himself to daydream about having Sansa for himself?

"_I'm with Joffrey. I'd never think about Sandor that way."_

That first sentence of hers had shattered that dream to pieces.

So he'd watched as they'd argued under that tree, and he'd ignored his instinct to rush to her side when he'd seen Joffrey crushing her wrists. He'd just stood there and done nothing. Sansa had made her preference for Joffrey clear for all to see. She could deal with her bastard of a boyfriend by herself.

He determined to get over the redheaded bird as quickly as possible.

Sandor finished his one drink, and watched the sports commentary on the TV over the bar as he waited for the alcohol to pass through his system. He couldn't get drunk, much as he'd like to. He had a football game the following day.

By the time he walked out of the bar, night had well and truly fallen, and he walked back towards his car.

He'd just passed the pool hall and was about to cross the street when he noticed a commotion in the darkness.

"…Get your hands away from me, jerk!" Said a feminine voice.

"Oh, come on!"Said a male voice.

"What part of _no_, don't you get?" The girl sounded young, and that made Sandor frown.

"Don't play hard to get, sweetheart!" Said a second male voice.

"Don't you fucking touch me!"

Sandor paused in his step. The way the girl swore sounded familiar, and he turned into the narrow lane just in time to see a small feminine shape being grabbed by the larger figure of a guy. The girl threw a punch, which hit her attacker square in the jaw.

"I said, let go of me!" The girl yelped, breaking from the guy's grip.

She stepped into a dim puddle of light cast by a street lamp…and Sandor swore when he recognized her pretty face, and purple tipped hair.

He smelled trouble…with a capital 'A'.

* * *

**Arya**

She stepped out of the 'Lucky 8' after saying goodbye to Lommy and the other boys. Bruce had called a taxi for her, and now she was waiting for it to arrive.

That was when two young men came stumbling out of the bar across the road. The blinking sign at the door told her it was called the 'Crossroads Inn'. Arya tried to make herself inconspicuous as they neared her, but they'd already seen her. One of them was tall and bald, while the other was plain and ordinary looking.

"Look, Polliver…there's a pretty one," Said the ordinary looking one.

The bald one gave her a drunk grin, "Hey pretty girl…haven't seen you around here before…"

Arya ignored them and pointedly looked away.

"Hey, I'm talking to you,"

She still didn't acknowledge him.

"Tickler, I think she's ignoring me,"

"That's cos you're ugly, Polliver." Said the ordinary one, "Let me try,"

Arya felt a hand on her elbow, and she stumbled away instinctively, "No! Get your hands away from me, jerk!"

"Oh, come on!"Said the ordinary one as he stepped closer to her, backing her into a wall.

"What part of _no_, don't you get?"

"Don't play hard to get, sweetheart!" Said the bald one.

"Don't you fucking touch me!"Arya screamed at him as he made to grab her.

His hands grasped her shoulders, and Arya reacted by swinging a punch at his face.

"You little cocksucker!"

"I said, let go of me!" She broke free.

That was when the one called Tickler advanced on her as well, "We only wanted to talk!"

Panic suddenly gripped her as she realized her predicament had just turned for the worse.

The Tickler was on her, and she grabbed at his wrists, twisting them in the way she remembered Jon showing her so that he would loosen his grip. When he did, she used all her might to bend it to an unnatural angle. He cried out in pain, and Arya shoved him as hard as she could to the ground. He pulled her down with him, and she landed with her knees on his stomach, winding him.

"Bitch!" He hissed.

Overcome with rage and panic, she smashed her fist into his nose, feeling it break with a sickening crunch, and hit him again in the jaw.

Heavy hands landed on her shoulders.

"Leave him!" A rasping voice growled.

A muscular arm was hooked around her waist, and she was being lifted off the guy on the ground whose nose was now bleeding. Both of them were swearing and moaning in pain.

Arya kicked and clawed at the person holding her, trying to free herself.

"Stop it!" Her captor shook her, "It's me!"

She looked up, "You!"

Sandor Clegane glared down at her.

Arya looked at the lane behind them and found the bald guy crawling on the ground towards his friend with the bloody nose. The bald guy was bleeding as well, from a cut on his head. Both of them were moaning in pain.

"Did you do that?" She asked him.

"See anyone else around?" Sandor roughly set her on her feet, but he grabbed her elbow and started dragging her down the street. "Let's get out of here before someone calls the cops. Someone would have heard all that noise."

"What are you doing here?" She asked, half jogging to keep up with his long strides.

Her heart was still beating rapidly in her chest, and adrenaline was masking the pain in her hand, but she knew it would be throbbing soon.

"What are _you_ doing here?"Sandor returned, "On your own, at night?"

She'd just been assaulted, and though she'd been able to deal with one guy…there was no way she'd have been able to deal with two.

The Hound had saved her neck.

"Oh, God…" She squeaked, understanding just how much trouble she could have been in.

The Hound glanced at her briefly, "Are you okay?"

_Nothing happened. You're fine._ She told herself.

"I'm good," She was pleased when her voice came out steady. "Where are you taking me?"

"My car is parked this way," He replied, "I'm taking you home,"

"No. Drop me off at Harrenhal Mall. That's where I told my mother I'd be."

"Suit yourself."

He led her to a basement garage, and in the light Arya saw a streak of red on the bottom of Sandor's shirt.

"It's not my blood," He rasped when he saw her looking.

He unlocked the doors to his Mustang and ordered her to get into the passenger seat, before he walked around to the driver's side and pulled the door open. He didn't get in right away. Instead, he shrugged out of the leather jacket he wore and threw it onto the seat.

"Reach behind you and pass me that shirt, would you?"

Arya did as he instructed and reached for the white t-shirt on the rear seat, before handing it to him.

She watched as he pulled off the bloodied shirt before throwing it into the back seat.

"You're fucking huge," She muttered, staring at his bared torso and taking in his massive shoulders and muscular chest.

She appreciated the impressive six-pack he sported, too. His arms were defined and corded with muscle, and she noted that his right bicep was still bandaged.

_Shame about your face, but the rest of you is pretty hot._

He caught her staring, but she didn't look away. "Just realized that, did you? Are you blind?"

He pulled on the clean shirt and tugged his leather jacket back on before finally getting behind the wheel. Momentarily, they were on the road heading towards Harrenhal Mall.

Arya sighed. _I probably should thank him._

She knew that she should, but getting her mouth to form the words proved quite difficult. Her brain was finding it very hard to make the connection that the Hound had done something worthy of her thankfulness.

He turned his stereo on as the silence was uncomfortable. It seemed he didn't intend on having a conversation,which was fine by her. She had too many things on her mind anwya, and she was close to being overwhelmed.

Gendry. Jaqen. The Baratheons. Sansa. Father. Jory, and now the Hound. Too many names were going around in her head, and each one elicited a different emotion within her.

She made a noise like something of a whimper, and the Hound glared at her sharply.

"You'd better not fucking cry," He snapped.

"I'm not!" She snapped back, returning his glare.

"You're an idiot," He said, "Why didn't you just run?"

She didn't answer him. She hadn't been thinking. Looking back on it, she probably should have gone back inside the pool hall where she was reasonable safe with the proprietor, Bruce.

The Hound clicked his tongue. "You've got shit for brains…but you pack a punch for a little girl."

"I'm not a _little girl_!"

"You're little to me." He continued, "And you're a girl, so deal with it."

"Fuck you,"

He barked a laugh. "You want to walk the rest of the way?"

"I didn't ask you to rescue me," She stated, "But you did, so now you have a duty to keep me safe."

That shut him up temporarily, and she heard him muttering something about losing his mind, and bloody Stark girls.

Arya remembered the incident in the quad that afternoon.

"How are things between my sister and Joffrey?" She asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"After what happened today?" She reminded him, "The Spyder's post and the fight?"

"How should I know?" He remarked.

"You're around them every day," She pointed out, "Aren't you Joff's best friend?"

"He's not my friend!" The Hound hissed out, surprising her, as though the words had been ripped out of his throat.

"Your Master, or whatever then," She went on, "You're his loyal Hound, right?"

"Drop it, little bitch," He snarled, "I'm warning you."

She stared at him, confused by the tone in his voice, "You're weird."

"Why don't you just ask your sister?" He asked.

"Because I'm not talking to her,"

"Why not?"

"Because," She snapped. "I hate her boyfriend."

Reaching for the controls on his stereo, she turned the music up, and didn't notice the glance Sandor threw her way.

It was pop music that blared from the speakers, the mainstream Top-40 kind. Not asking his permission, Arya took his iPod from its console and started scrolling through it. Sandor didn't stop her.

"You've got all girly crap on here," She said, reading the names of the artists on his playlist.

Who knew the Hound listened to Taylor Swift, and Pink, and Lady Gaga?

"Leave that alone," Sandor said with a sigh, "Why do you want to go to Harrenhal Mall? Don't you have a seven p.m. curfew?"

"Past seven now, I'm in trouble already," She replied, not asking how he knew about her curfew.

It was then that Arya came across his most frequently played list, and found a song and an artist she wasn't expecting.

_Angel – Sansa Stark (Acapella Cover)._

"What the hell?" She asked under her breath. How had he gotten hold of this? "Hound, why do you have…?"

She didn't finish her question. A light had snapped on in her head, and something the Gossip Spyder had posted that afternoon came to mind.

_Joffrey, perhaps you should be worried about an unwelcome dog sniffing around your territory?_

Arya bit the side of her lip and mulled over one word in particular; _dog._

Now she had in her hand an iPod apparently belonging to Sandor Clegane, containing a song she knew for a fact Sansa had sung and recorded purely for her private use, on his most-played list. It was strange as well how the playlist of artists…

"…Looks just like Sansa's playlist…" Her voice trailed off, then she looked up at him accusingly. "It's _you_!"

"What?"

"You're the _dog_ that's been sniffing around Joffrey's territory…Oh my God…the Spyder _knows_!"

She paled, then turned in her seat and started hitting him, "You asshole!"

"Stop it!" Sandor gripped the steering wheel tighter in one hand, while trying to deflect blows with the other. "Cut it out!"

"She was with you yesterday!" She continued, "It was you she was having pizza with."

"Quit hitting me!"

"Joffrey's going to kill her if he finds out!"

"Fuck! Arya, stop!" Sandor managed to catch a wrist.

"And _you_! You're his best friend!" She gasped dramatically, "What's he going to do when he finds out you're messing around with his girl?"

"_I'm not messing around with her!"_ Sandor bellowed.

Arya stopped hitting him and sat back, mind whirring as she processed what she'd just learned. It was something in Sandor's tone as he'd shouted at her that had convinced her.

"But I'm right, aren't I?" She said. "It was you Sansa was spotted with."

Sandor didn't reply, but Arya already knew.

"Why didn't the Spyder name you?"

Again, he didn't reply.

"What did you do?"

"I haven't done anything!" He rasped. "I haven't touched her."

"But you want to," Arya made a face. "You _like_ her."

"Mind your own damn business!"

"This _is_ my business!"

"Since when? Why do you care all of a sudden?" He demanded, "Suddenly remembered she's your sister?"

She sneered. "Don't pretend you understand my relationship with my sister. All you need to know is I _hate _Joffrey, and Sansa doesn't deserve whatever punishment he'll give her if he ever finds out you've been sneaking around behind his back."

"I told you, I'm not sneaking around with her!"

"Does she like you, too?" Arya asked.

Sandor didn't reply.

"Oh…well…" Arya shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

"She doesn't feel the same way, huh?"

"Just, shut the fuck up!"

She'd touched a nerve there, and though he was gruff, there was something about the set of his jaw that told her she was pushing too far. The Hound was far from Sansa's type, and it was obvious that he knew that as well.

The contrasts between Sandor Clegane and Joffrey Baratheon were too many to count. She almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"Why were you having pizza with her anyway?" She asked, too curious for her own good.

She didn't think he would answer her, but after some minutes, he did. "She was thanking me."

"For what?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"I told you, we're not talking to each other."

He frowned, but kept his eyes on the road. "During the riots…she got trapped outside the restaurant with the mob. I got her out."

She hadn't expected that response. "You rescued her? The Baratheons never said…"

"Well, they wouldn't," Sandor sneered.

"Is that how your arm got injured?"

He nodded.

"And it was Sansa who told you about the seven p.m. curfew on a school night, as well?"

Again, he nodded.

They were silent as Sandor turned into one of Harrenhal Mall's parking lots, and he maneuvered his car to a parking space close to the entrance.

Arya didn't get out, however. She just sat there mulling things over.

"You know, it's going to come out eventually that it was you," She said.

"More than likely," He agreed.

"Aren't you worried?" She pressed.

He shrugged.

"You should be," She insisted, "Don't you care what'll happen to Sansa? Don't you care what people will say?"

"What do you suggest I do about it?" Sandor demanded.

"I don't know," It was her turn to shrug, "Create a diversion?"

The Hound laughed humorlessly. "…Shit for brains."

Arya glared up at him. Annoyed. Frazzled. And a little out of her mind.

She had an idea, and looking at the group of teenagers by the mall entrance directly opposite them, there would be plenty of witnesses.

Everything that Arya ever did was usually born out of impulsiveness.

The next action that she took was no different.

Had she given it a second thought or considered the ramifications of the fallout from her action, she might not have done it, but she was Arya-Act-Now-Think-Later, and no such thoughts came to her head.

She leaned over the gears and grabbed Sandor by the front of his jacket, and before he knew what was happening, Arya had pressed her mouth to his. It was a hard, closed-mouth kiss, but a kiss all the same.

She heard his sharply inhaled breath, and his fingers wrapped around her wrists painfully to push her away, but she gripped his jacket so tight her knuckles hurt, preventing him. Sandor pulled his head back instead, and he looked down at her incredulously.

"_What the fuck are you doing?"_ His raspy voice came out harsh with shock.

"Giving the Spyder something else to talk about!" She hissed.

"Are you insane?"

"Probably," She agreed, eyes glittering, "Kiss me back, and look like you fucking enjoy it!"

"You _stupid_ little –!" He managed to growl out just before her lips were on his again.

Arya figured if she hadn't caught him by surprise, she'd never have been able to do it. She could feel her skin bruising under his fingers as the Hound tried to resist her. She wasn't sure what to expect. She'd never initiated a kiss before. She wasn't even sure she was doing it right. Both Gendry and Jaqen had kissed her, but not like this, so she had no basis for comparison.

_Is this all?_ She wondered. _What's the big fucking deal about kissing?_

And then the Hound stopped fighting.

"Don't forget, you started this!" He rasped against her lips, and then his hands which had been trying to fend her off, were now suddenly pulling her tight against him.

She knew the moment she lost control of the situation, if she'd ever had it to begin with. Sandor slipped a large hand behind the back of her head at the same time he returned the pressure against her mouth. He angled her head to suit him, and then it was Arya's turn to inhale sharply when he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Her first instinct was to pull away – _fuck, this is the Hound! – _but curiosity made her stay still.

His mouth was warm, and the contrast between his burned and unburned lips were not unpleasant.

Experimentally, she moved her tongue against his, mimicking what she thought he was doing. He pulled her closer in response, so she must have done it right. The kiss was not gentle, she could tell that. She wasn't sure the Hound even had it in him to be gentle. She didn't feel any of the buzzing she'd read about in those stupid teen magazines.

Still, it felt…nice.

Crushed as she was against him, she could feel the strength in the tense muscles, and feel his steady heartbeat under her flattened palm against his chest. She smelled his cologne, and the leather of his jacket.

_So, this is kissing._ She thought, finally seeing why people bothered doing it.

She moved her arms and attempted to get them around his back, and he let her, only he was just so broad and the car was cramped and she ended up just placing them on his shoulders.

_He's muscled like a bull, and he's freaky big…he could paralyze a guy if he had half a mind to beat him up._

Arya grew still. Another realization had just crossed her mind.

Sandor pulled his head back when she stopped moving, and he looked at her questioningly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He demanded as he took in how wide her eyes had got. "I won't get better looking just because you kissed me."

Arya could only stare back, still mute. There were two reasons she was staring. The first was that she'd just experienced her first tongue-in-the-mouth kiss, and secondly it had come from the guy who'd beat up her friend…or, at least it appeared he'd beat up her friend.

"That's kissing, huh?"

"What? Don't fucking tell me you've never kissed a guy before?" He already knew the answer even as the question left his mouth. Arya just looked up at him and shrugged, "You. Are. Bloody. _Insane_!"

He pulled away from her completely, almost shoving her off him in his haste to put some distance between them.

"That Spyder's definitely going to hear about this now." He indicated the group of teenagers at the entrance of the mall hastily stuffing mobile phones into pockets. "I hope it was worth it, you crazy little bitch."

Arya put a hand on his arm, stilling him momentarily. "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me honestly."

He glared at her, "Depends on the question."

She looked up into his eyes again, and squeezed his arm.

"Sandor," She used his given name, something she'd never done, "You didn't beat up my friend, did you?"

He sneered at her, and jerked his arm away from her. "I damn well did, and you know it."

"Yeah, you hit him." She agreed. "But you didn't beat him to a pulp, and you could have. Joffrey wouldn't have let him walk away, and Mycah walked away. I just want to know the truth."

Sandor swore, and then he re-started the Mustang and pulled away from the parking lot.

"Where are we going, now?"

"I'm insisting on taking you home."

"You could have left me at the mall. I was going to get our driver to pick me up."

"It's nearly eight p.m. and you're going to get in trouble,"

"Don't change the subject," She snapped. "What happened with Mycah?"

Sandor let out a string of expletives, but after his verbal diarrhea, he finally told her. "Joffrey wanted revenge after that photo came out, and it was your blood he wanted. I convinced him that it wasn't a good idea. It was you or the kid. Work it out."

Arya sat silent for a moment while her mind worked at filling in the blanks. It didn't take her long to figure out that the Hound had done something uncharacteristically noble.

"Why?" She asked him, "You didn't know me. You _still_ don't know me."

He didn't reply, but Arya came upon the answer on her own.

"Sansa," She said, and noted the way the way his fingers tightened on the steering wheel at the sound of her sister's name. "You did it for Sansa."

Leaning back into the seat, Arya rubbed her hands over her face, noting that the one she'd used to punch that guy's face in was now throbbing.

It had been the longest day, and she was suddenly very tired.

All she had wanted to do was ask a few questions about Gendry's past. How was she to know that by the end of the day she'd end up throwing herself at the Hound and kissing him?

She started chuckling, which became a near-hysterical laughing. She couldn't help it.

"What's so funny?" The Hound demanded.

"Nothing. Everything!" She replied.

Things had just gotten way more complicated.

* * *

**Hands up if you saw that coming?**

**SanSan, Gendrya, Jaqarya lovers out there…I make no apologies for what I've done, it had to happen.**

**Those of you secretly shipping Sandor/ Arya, I hope you enjoyed that!**

**Now, I have good news and bad news – good news first. I am nowhere near finished this fic, and rest assured I will see it to the end!**

**Bad news, I have to go on hiatus for about six weeks. I have an exam to study for, so I will be taking some time to prepare for that. I can't promise to update at all between now and the end of October.**

… **but I can promise that I will have more episodes to post, and hopefully a satisfying conclusion for our favorite couples when my exam is over.**

**Those of you who haven't got a fanfiction account, I urge you to go get one, and follow my fic to make sure you get the alert when I come back and update!**

**For now, wish me luck, and thank you all for your continued encouragement and support! Love you all!**

**MagicMyth83**


	13. Episode 13 Tangled Web

**Here it is! The long awaited update is finally here! **

**It's loooong and full of drama…and thank you all again for being so patient while I was on hiatus. I missed writing it, and the whole time I couldn't wait to get back into it!**

**Hopefully, I'll be back to my regular schedule of weekly updates!**

* * *

**Episode 13**

"**Tangled Web"**

**Gossip Spyder**

OMG! OMG! OMG!

Prepare yourselves, people…this is BIG!

Arya Stark and The Hound were spotted **kissing **outside Harrenhal Mall last night!

I received photos from several people who were there and who saw this with their very own eyes, so I have no doubt that this kiss did indeed happen! OMG! See the pics for yourself if you don't believe me…

When did you two get together? You guys are usually seen snarling at each other in the halls at school…but then again, love and hate are two sides of the same coin – is that how the saying goes?

So Arya, what does big sister, Sansa, think of you hooking up with her boyfriend Joffrey's best friend? And does this mean that things weren't serious between you and Jaqen H'ghar? Or is there something that you want to tell him?

Let's see how this plays out!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Sandor**

_Fuck!_

Was the first expletive that came to his mind upon seeing the post.

This was swiftly followed by actual verbal expletives.

"C_ocksucker! Motherfucker! Bloody, buggering hell!"_ Sandor swore.

He'd known this was going to happen. He'd seen people taking photos of him and Arya the night before.

He just didn't expect so many of them to go up on the site. There would be no denying it. Everyone knew his Mustang, and everyone knew his ugly face.

_Fuck!_

* * *

**Gendry**

Gendry had just sauntered into the garage and unlocked his car when his phone beeped in his back pocket. He reached for it and absentmindedly clicked on the Gossip Spyder's text message alert as he threw his schoolbag into the back seat.

He saw the post and almost dropped his phone.

_No! I don't believe it! _

He viewed the photos.

_What the hell? Is this a joke?_

It didn't appear to be. The photos looked real enough, and Arya was clearly kissing the Hound.

_This can't be right…_

Yet the proof was at his fingertips.

For the second time, he was confronted with images of Arya being with a guy that wasn't him.

Fury, followed swiftly by envy filled his gut, and he slammed his fist into the concrete wall of the garage, not noticing the blood on his knuckles as his skin tore against the rough surface.

Gendry angrily tapped out a message to Arya.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"

* * *

**Jaqen**

Jaqen did not subscribe to the Gossip Spyder, but some of his friends did. It was at their insistence that he looked at the site that morning.

He read the post and raised his brows incredulously, thinking there was some kind of mistake. Surely, the Spyder must have gotten Arya Stark confused with someone else?

He clicked on the link.

He inhaled sharply when he saw the pictures the Spyder referred to.

There was no mistaking her petite frame and purple-tipped hair. She looked ridiculously tiny in the arms of the Hound.

Jaqen's stomach plummeted, and he had to steady himself a moment against the edge of his desk from his sudden loss of equilibrium.

_How could she do this?_

Before he could think rationally, he'd already fired off a text message to her.

"I know your fangs are sharp, lovely girl…you did not need to prove it to me."

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa looked at the photos in shock.

"No!" She gasped.

_This can't be real!_

Something dark and bitter and frightening rushed through her veins.

Disbelief.

Jealousy.

Rage.

She wanted to gouge Arya's eyes out.

Her fingers gripped her phone tightly as she stared at the images, and a strangled sound forced its way out from between her clenched teeth.

She hit the button to refresh the page, hoping that when the page reloaded the images would prove that she'd somehow been wrong.

She wasn't.

The page reloaded, and SandorClegane was still kissing her little sister.

_How dare she? _Sansa fumed, _how dare she touch him?_

* * *

**Arya**

_Well, it fucking worked._ Arya chewed on her bottom lip as she read that morning's post, and grimaced when she saw the numerous images online. There wasn't a single mention at all of Sansa, or of the dog that had been sniffing around Joffrey's patch.

She read the part about Jaqen again, and she swallowed with some difficulty. He would see the post too.

_Oh, no…_

Her cell phone beeped, alerting her to a new message. She made no move to check it out.

Her phone beeped once more about a minute later.

She took several deep breaths.

_Don't be a coward._

She checked her messages.

One was from Gendry, and she bit her lip when she saw his message typed in all-caps.

"I'll talk to you at school." She texted back, not looking forward to it.

He'd only just started talking to her again, but now she was almost afraid of what he would say to her. He liked the Hound about as much as he liked Jaqen.

The other message was from Jaqen. She made a panicked kind of noise and sent him a pleading message.

"It's not what you think, I promise. Please let me explain."

Jaqen's response was swift. Her phone rang almost immediately.

"Jaqen, please let me –" Arya began as soon as she'd picked up the call.

"I'm not sure I want to hear it," Jaqen interrupted, his voice terse. "Just yesterday afternoon you were telling me that you missed me and were agreeing to meet me for a second date, and yet you were seen kissing another guy just_ hours_ later. What am I to make of that, Arya?"

"The Hound means nothing to me,"

"You hate the Hound, and yet you kissed him. That only makes me wonder about what I might really mean to you," Jaqen said, his displeasure evident in his clipped and accented tones.

"I only kissed him because –"

"I don't want to know, Arya." Jaqen interrupted again, "And…I believe I've had second thoughts about breakfast tomorrow."

"Jaqen –!"

"I hope you have a pleasant day, _sweet girl_."

Jaqen hung up abruptly, and Arya stared at her phone numbly.

_What have I done?_

Had she ruined everything with Jaqen? They'd barely even begun a relationship…did this mean they were over? Why didn't she think about what would happen _before_ kissing the Hound?

"You're so stupid, Arya!" She berated herself, before grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it.

Jaqen hadn't even let her explain what had happened. She hadn't thought about how he would react – how anyone would react, for that matter. She'd just wanted to get the Spyder's eye away from Sansa.

_Why had I wanted to do that, exactly?_ She asked herself.

She recalled the argument between Sansa and Joffrey that she had witnessed the day before, and watching as Joffrey had nearly crushed Sansa's wrists.

_Yeah, that's right._ She'd wanted to take the Spyder's eyes away from the sister she hadn't spoken to in weeks, because said sister was dating a psycho who thought nothing of hurting his girlfriend over unfounded rumors of unfaithfulness.

Except, there had been some truth to the Spyder's post from the previous day. Sansa had been having pizza with another guy – a guy that happened to be into her, for that matter – but her reason for being with Sandor Clegane was innocent. Arya had no reason to disbelieve what the Hound had told her.

Sansa had been thanking the Hound for saving her ass from the mob. This was a typical Sansa thing to do. Her sister had always been impeccably polite.

Remembered sensations of kissing Sandor crept into her head, making her squirm uncomfortably. Was there really nothing else she could have done to create a diversion? Had she really needed to kiss Sandor? She could have just punched him in the face – that would have gotten the Spyder's attention just as effectively, she mused.

Arya sighed, remembering something else about the Gossip Spyder. This Gossip Spyder knew the real identity of Sansa's companion. She still didn't see why Sandor's name had been omitted, but neither Sansa nor the Hound himself had sought to clear this up with Joffrey.

Couldn't Sansa have just told Joffrey the truth? Surely he would understand? Arya scoffed at the thought. Joffrey was too full of himself to see reason – _psycho, remember?_

And if Joffrey were to question Sandor about his feelings towards Sansa, would the big brute be able to lie? Could he lie and deny his not so innocent or platonic thoughts about his best friend's girlfriend?

Arya frowned, and turned towards the direction of her sister's bedroom where she could hear Sansa moving around as she got ready for school. Did Sansa have any idea about how the Hound felt about her?

Whether or not she did, Sansa must have had her reasons for lying to Joffrey. The Hound would have had his reasons as well.

Dropping her head to her hands, Arya realized that kissing Sandor probably was the only thing she could have done to distract the Spyder from connecting the dots between him and her sister. The Spyder had been closer to the truth than he/she/it probably realized.

Regardless that the Hound's feelings for Sansa were not returned, all it would take was one rumor, one word said out of turn, one glance taken out of context, and Sansa would be in a world of trouble with Joffrey again.

It was better that Sandor Clegane was linked to someone other than Sansa Stark. _And because of my impulsive stupidity, he's linked to me instead, _she thought.

"_I hope it was worth it_, _you crazy little bitch_." The Hound had said.

So far, her actions had already backfired on her. Jaqen had sounded like he was through with her. She groaned, thinking about their earlier phone conversation. She never made it to a second date.

Gendry was also mad at her, and that confrontation was still ahead of her. She was sure Hot Pie would not be pleased either.

What about Sansa?

Her insides churned at a sudden thought. Arya had pretty much screwed up all of her own relationships by trying to protect her sister. Her sister, who she wasn't speaking to, and who was the one stupid enough to date a psycho to begin with.

Anger spiked through her. _This is all Sansa's fault. If she wasn't dating that jerk, none of this would have happened._

But even as the thought went through her mind, she knew that if she had to do it over again, she would probably still choose to protect her sister – except she'd try to come up with a better idea than kissing Sandor Clegane. She grimaced again in discomfort at the memory.

It wasn't Sansa's fault that she was stupid, but it didn't stop Arya from feeling bitter about the situation.

What would Sansa say if she knew about what Arya had done for her? Would she be grateful? Would she thank her? Arya wasn't sure she was ready to start speaking to her again. Sansa was still dating Joffrey, that hadn't changed, and Arya's opinion of the blonde jerk had only worsened in the last twenty-four hours.

She ran her hand through her now disheveled hair and got up from her bed so that she could fix herself up in front of a mirror. She had an inkling of what awaited her at school, and if people were going to be staring at her, then she wanted to look as unaffected as she could manage.

When she went downstairs for breakfast, Sansa was already at the table with their parents and younger brothers.

"Good morning, Arya." Her father greeted her.

"Good morning, father."

"Arya," Her mother gave her a stern look over the rim of her coffee cup, "I don't have to remind you that you are banned from going out tonight, do I? That includes going to watch your school football team."

"I haven't forgotten, mother." Arya replied.

It was her punishment for coming home after curfew the night before. Really, it was less than what she had expected. The Hound had dropped her home at nearly half past eight, and her mother had been waiting for her in the foyer when she had let herself in. There had been no yelling, or lecturing, or even awkward questions.

"You should have called," Her mother had said, "Whatever plans you may have for tomorrow night, consider them cancelled."

Then she'd been sent to bed. It wasn't much of a punishment, but she wasn't about to complain if her mother believed her social life was that important, or even that eventful for that matter.

Sitting down at the table, Arya greeted the rest of her family, and made a point to look at her sister.

Sansa met her eyes, but her expression…well, she was expressionless. Arya did not like this.

Had she not yet seen the Spyder's post?

Sansa responded to the conversation around her and answered the questions their parents and brothers asked her. She sounded normal, but this only made Arya uneasy. She'd expected more of a reaction from her sister, _any_ kind of reaction…not indifference.

Surely, the sight of her little sister kissing her boyfriend's best friend would be enough to rouse a '_what the fuck?'_ or at the very least, a look of curiosity?

The ride to school with their father was silent, as it had been over recent weeks, but at the school gate, after their father had driven off, Sansa had slowed her strides so that she matched Arya.

Arya looked up at her sister's face which now bore the tiniest of frowns between her well-groomed brows.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Sansa's voice was high and tight, and she didn't stick around to wait for her sister to respond, her long legs carrying her up the path away from Arya.

At last, a reaction, but Arya didn't know what to make of those seven words. The only words her sister had said to her in ages. Sansa wasn't reacting the way she was expecting at all.

Unfortunately, everyone else was.

Everyone was staring at her. She wasn't imagining it. As soon as Sansa had walked away from her, she had noticed that people were looking at her, and covering their mouths with their hands as they whispered to each other. No one was really trying all that hard to hide it either.

Neither Gendry or Hot Pie were waiting for her when she reached the steps leading to the student parking lot, so she made her way to her homeroom by herself, doing her best to ignore the stares that followed her.

She took her seat, and listened to the whispers. She wasn't surprised by what they were saying about her, she'd anticipated a lot of it, in fact.

On her way to her first class, she ran into Hot Pie in the hallway but her tentative smile died swiftly at the expression on his face. Hot Pie had never been anything but friendly with her, so the anger and disbelief in his eyes shook her.

"Hot Pie, hi,"

"Arya," He nodded at her, "Anything you want to tell me?"

The usual mirth on his face was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't expected this, not from him.

"About the Spyder's post…it's not how it seems," She began.

Arya wanted so much to explain to her friend the truth of things, but the truth sounded unbelievable, even to her ears. She suddenly didn't know what to say.

Hot Pie took her silence as confirmation of every negative thing he was ready to accuse her of.

"I don't know what the hell is going through your head, Arya," Hot Pie stated, "But did you suddenly forget what the Hound did to Mycah?"

"No, I haven't," _It's not like that!_

"And you still sucked face with him." Hot Pie pointed out, "Even knowing who he is, and what he's capable of."

Hot Pie sneered. She didn't think he was capable of doing that.

"I'll see you around, Arya."

She watched her friend walk away from her, and wondered how much worse it could get.

* * *

**Sandor**

He wanted to smash Joffrey's face in. That was Sandor's first thought when he saw him that day.

He wanted to wipe the seedy smirk off the jerk's face.

"A freshmen, Hound?"Joffreysmirked, "Arya Stark, of all freshmen? Can't say much about your taste in girls!"

Sandor chose not to comment. He wondered what the jerk would say if he ever found out which Stark sister it was that really got his pulse throbbing.

"Is that why you didn't want her face bloodied?" Joffrey pushed, "Because you like her pretty?"

Sandor grimaced inwardly at the comment. Joffrey hadn't forgotten about _that_ incident afterall.

"Something like that," He grumbled reluctantly.

"I thought you were a tits and ass man?" Joff asked, "She hasn't got either."

"Trying something different,"

"Does she put out?"

"I'm not fucking her,"

"…Or is she guarding her cunt, like Sansa? As if it's some sort of prize?"

"I'm _not_ fucking her."

"Yet," The blonde grinned.

_Ever. _Sandor thought, but didn't say it out aloud.

"She _must_ put out," Joff continued, "You wouldn't be after her if she didn't. I know you, and you don't do relationships."

There was a growl building in Sandor's throat, and he bit his tongue to try and hold it back.

"She must have a thing for senior guys."

"Huh?"

"Apparently she was dating this senior from Braavos Academy."

Sandor frowned, recalling something about a wannabe rockstar in previous posts by the Spyder.

"I never thought you'd have that kind of pulling power, Hound," Joff smirked, "Arya's a bitch, but she's a _pedigree_ bitch!"

Joffrey walked off towards his class muttering something sick about Rottweilers and Chihuahuas and Sandor resisted the urge to grab the jerks head and smash it into a locker.

Instead, he walked into his first period English class and noted that everyone was staring at him, like everyone in his homeroom class had done earlier. There was a moment of silence as he made his way to his desk, before hushed whispers started up again as he sat down.

The girls behind him were muttering amongst themselves.

"…How did this happen?"

"She's so cute, and…"

"He's a brute…"

Giggles.

"Isn't she dating Jaqen H'ghar?"

"She was just with him last week. Is she two-timing?"

"With _him?_"

No prizes for guessing who they were referring to. _Fucking hell!_

He hadn't seen the little bitch yet, but whatever class she was in, he hoped her classmates were giving her hell.

No one was game enough to say anything to his face, but he heard more than a few derogatory references to mating dogs and comparisons about himself and Arya to different breeds of canines that really tested his self-control.

He didn't particularly want to speak to the little bitch, but he would need to, if there would be any chance of getting out of their current predicament. He wanted her to explain to him why she thought kissing him was the best way to divert the Spyder's attention.

He hadn't given it much thought the night before, and it wasn't until he'd woken up and seen the post that he'd actually started trying to figure out how the little bitch's mind worked. He admitted that he didn't have a clue what they were supposed to do next.

There were few things in the world that could take him by surprise, but nothing could have prepared himfor the shock of the pretty, petite and volatile Arya Stark grabbing the front of his jacket and kissing him.

_Arya Stark, _the same girl who glared daggers at him every time he was in her vicinity, and who never said a thing to him without following it up with an insult or a rude word. The same girl who had been dreaming of the most gruesome ways to kill him just weeks before…had willingly kissed him, and allowed the whole school population to know about it.

And to top it all off, apparently he was her first kiss. He scowled at that.

She was supposed to be dating Jaqen Whatshisname. Why hadn't she kissed him? He couldn't work that one out, and he didn't particularly care.

He'd kissed her back, like she'd ordered him to, and it had been nice enough while it had lasted. He'd fallen asleep the night before with the taste of Arya's lips on his mind, and imagined that she had been Sansa instead.

Then he'd woken up that morning feeling guilty, uncomfortable, and angry with himself.

_There's nothing to feel guilty about_, he'd told himself. He was nothing to Sansa. If he wanted to kiss another girl, then he damn well would.

_And that's part of the reason why you stuck your tongue in Arya's mouth. _He'd kissed her back, not particularly because he wanted to, but because he could.

The expression on his face became darker, and the guy in the seat beside him inched further away from him.

He wasn't Sansa's boyfriend. Sansa wouldn't care about him being with another girl. _Well, she might care because it's Arya, but she won't be jealous. The only guy she wants to kiss is Joffrey fucking Baratheon._

The things Sansa had said about him were still foremost in his mind…and still stung like an open wound. He wondered what she would have to say about the pictures. Maybe he'd get a chance to find out.

He was walking to his next class when he finally caught sight ofArya heading towards her locker ahead of him. He was about to make his way over to her to remind her that they had things to talk about when he saw a tall black-haired guy come up behind Arya and spin her around by her shoulders.

It was her friend, the junior called Gendry, and by his stance and the way he was leaning over Arya, Sandor could tell the guy was angry, and didn't care who saw it.

He stopped walking and pretended to drink from the water fountain halfway down the hall, keeping his eyes raised so he could watch what transpired, even though he couldn't hear them.

Arya's eyes were wide, and Gendry's shoulders were hunched, like a predator about to attack. His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was tight as he spoke.

Arya looked upset, and for a moment Sandor was reminded of Sansa's expression when she'd pleaded with Joffrey the day before. Arya looked like she was pleading as well.

She reached out with one small hand to touch Gendry's arm, but he pushed her hand away.

"Don't!" He heard Gendry say.

Then Gendry slammed both his fists into the locker behind Arya, trapping her within his brawny arms. Other students now stopped to watch, and Arya's eyes showed a momentary fright at her friend's unexpected burst of violence. Gendry's face was inches from hers.

Sandor frowned, and found that he was tensed and ready to move in case he had to intervene.

_This can't be good._ He thought. He had no doubt what the confrontation was about. What had him thinking was the oddness about Gendry's reaction. It seemed too much like an overreaction.

_He's acting like a jealous boyfriend._

"Little bitch, you've done it now," Sandor muttered as he came to that realization.

Jaqen Whatshisname wasn't the only guy that was interested in Arya Stark.

_Stay out of it._ He told himself,_ this is her problem._

"I don't know what's gotten into you," Gendry's voice had become louder, "But right now, I don't want anything to do with you!"

Gendry dropped his fists and stalked away, leaving a shaken Arya standing at her locker.

Sandor quickly walked the other way before she had a chance to spot him, seeing that she was physically okay. He would have to catch her later.

_As for what's going on in her head, she can stew in her own mess._

At lunchtime, he saw Sansa with Joffrey at their usual table in the quad. He didn't think it was a wise idea for him to see her given his current frame of mind, but he had to find out how she had reacted to the Spyder's post. He wanted to see with his own eyes that she wasn't jealous of him kissing her sister.

He wanted proof that she felt nothing for him beyond the obligation to be polite to him, because he was Joffrey's friend. He wanted to rub salt into the bleeding sores she'd caused because he needed to make the pain feel worse…before he could begin to get over her.

Sansa looked breathtaking, as she always did, and he felt the wound she'd dealt him twinge painfully at the sight of her.

When he was almost upon them, it occurred to him that he didn't know what to say. He could hardly just blurt out; _hey, I sucked face with your sister, what do you have to say about it?_

Luckily, Joffrey raised the subject of Arya first.

"There's the dog of the moment," Joffrey called as he neared them, "Where's your little girlfriend, Hound?"

Joffrey had his arm around Sansa's waist, and Sandor tried not to focus on this. Instead he watched Sansa's face. She was unreadable.

He stopped walking, belatedly realizing that people probably expected him to be hanging around Arya now.

"You haven't seen her?" He guessed that was a reasonable question to ask.

"Nope, I haven't seen her, and the table she usually occupies is peculiarly unoccupied."

Sandor turned to look, confirming that the table was empty, and turned back to face them. Joffrey's possessive hand was now on Sansa's hip.

Sansa looked like she was comfortable in the crook of the blonde's arm, and it looked like she had no intention of moving. It didn't appear she had any intention of talking about Arya, either.

Sansa appeared not to care that he'd been kissing her little sister.

This annoyed him.

"I'll find her." He turned to leave.

"You're really dating her?" Sansa called after him.

_Finally. _Sandor glanced at her. She looked concerned. That was all.

Did she think he wasn't good enough for her sister? He probably wasn't, he thought. _Well, fuck that._

"Maybe," He finally said, before adding, "I won't hurt her."

He walked away. He'd seen what he'd wanted to see.

"I'll see you before the game tonight," He heard Joffrey call after him.

* * *

**Sansa**

She'd chosen not to gouge out her sister's eyes…for the time being.

She had stomped and ranted in her bedroom earlier that morning, and thrown pillows and clothes around in an attempt to vent out some of the violent emotions that had coursed through her. Much as she'd wanted to throw objects with some actual weight to them, she didn't think her parents would understand.

At one point, she'd actually made it to her door and had her hand on the handle, ready to confront Arya – but logic and self-control had won out.

She had no right to get mad at her sister, because she had no right to Sandor.

So, she'd picked her strewn things up off the floor, re-brushed her hair and straightened her clothes before she'd eventually gone down to breakfast.

It had been obvious that Arya was expecting some kind of reaction from her, and she was determined not to give one. But the longer she was in the same space as her sister, the weaker her resolve became.

"I hope you know what you're doing," She'd choked out, before fleeing her sister's side.

Then she'd had to _hear_ about Sandor and Arya's kiss all morning, everywhere she went.

Everyone was talking about them. _Everyone_.

Sansa longed to just cover her ears and shout "_la la la"_ so she wouldn't have to keep hearing about how shocking it was that her younger sister had been spotted kissing the Hound.

She'd heard the same questions being asked from the moment she'd stepped foot into the school grounds. People were whispering in hushed tones in the halls, openly gaping.

_Did you see the pictures? Can you believe it? How is this possible? Isn't she supposed to be dating Jaqen H'ghar? How did she hook up with the Hound? What did he say to convince her to kiss him? Why is she with him? Why would she choose the Hound over Jaqen? She really does prefer older guys, doesn't she? So, does this mean she's going to be dating Sandor Clegane now?_

And the most annoying question of all…_What does Sansa think?_

She was furious, if she cared to admit it, and felt entirely helpless to do anything about it.

_How dare they?_

Like everyone else, she wanted answers to the same questions. If there was ever a time to speak to Arya, now was that time. Except her hurt was too fresh, and her jealousy too raw.

She hadn't seen Sandor at all that morning. She wasn't sure she could look at him without seeing the pictures of him kissing Arya in her mind.

She kept seeing the way her sister's fingers had clutched at the lapel of his jacket, and the way Sandor's hands had gripped Arya's wrists in one photo. Another photo showed the same hand cupping the back of Arya's neck, while the other had splayed across her sister's back.

It had been a proper kiss, too. That was the hardest part to look at – seeing her sister's lips locked with Sandor's.

She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. _It should have been me!_

She had believed that Arya and Sandor hated each other. She'd never seen them interact civilly when their paths happened to cross. No way in the world would she have believed it possible for Arya to be attracted to Sandor. Why would Arya look at Sandor when she was being pursued by a guy like Jaqen H'ghar? Not to mention her hot guitarist friend Gendry, whose interest in Arya, Sansa would swear went beyond friendship.

But she'd been appalled at herself at this thought, because it made her a hypocrite.

"Why is Arya _Stark_ with Sandor Clegane?"

Of all the talk that she heard, that was the one question that made her gnash her teeth. It was asked in a manner that suggested that Sandor wasn't _good enough_ to be dating a Stark. This question was followed by less than savory observations about the Hound.

"He's at this school because his father works for the Lannisters. That's the only reason."

"He's a thug. He's not much better than his psychopath brother, Gregor."

"Arya could do so much better…she should've stayed with Jaqen H'ghar."

Sansa was so incensed at what she'd heard she'd very nearly gone over to the girls in her History class to give them a piece of her mind.

Sandor wasn't a bad guy. There was so much more to him than just his scars, his size or his 'I don't give a fuck' attitude.

Sandor was brave, as he'd proven when he'd saved her during the riot. He could be kind as well, and thoughtful. She remembered what he'd done for her birthday, and she knew that she would always regard that night at Serpentine Alley as magical.

She wanted to find out more of what lay beneath his scarred outer shell…but now she feared she wouldn't get that chance.

Arya would, and that knowledge hurt. Like an itch she couldn't scratch, this pain was something she didn't know how to soothe.

She couldn't even talk to Jeyne about it. Nobody could know, especially not Joffrey. So she made herself become unresponsive. It took all her effort to control her expressions and her body language, and let everyone see how unaffected she was on the outside…while she was raging and screaming on the inside.

At lunchtime, she found herself waiting for something to happen. Would Sandor turn up at the group's table? Would he now go and sit with Arya?

She was surprised to see Sandor making his way to the group table, and a new wave of hurt and jealousy washed over her again at the sight of him.

Sandor did not know how she felt about him. And given that her feelings for him were so new, she thought it unlikely that she might somehow have done something to give herself away.

She was still Joffrey's girlfriend, as far as everyone was concerned.

_Sandor's not yours, he never belonged to you, _said a bitter voice inside her head. He was free to see anyone, or kiss anyone he wanted.

_Anyone, but Arya._

She wondered if it would hurt less if he had been kissing anyone besides her _sister_. The thought of him with any girl brought bile to her throat.

An arm slipped around her waist, and she tensed when she recognized Joffrey's scent.

"There's the dog of the moment," Joffrey said, watching as Sandor approached, "Where's your little girlfriend, Hound?"

Sandor paused mid-step, glancing between Joffrey and Sansa and wearing his usual scowl.

"You haven't seen her?" He asked, sounding uncertain.

"Nope," Joffrey replied, "I haven't seen her, and the table she usually occupies is peculiarly unoccupied."

Sandor looked towards the other side of the quad where Arya and her friends normally sat, but the picnic table under the tree was, as Joffrey pointed out, void of occupants. He turned back to them, glancing briefly at where Joffrey's hand was curved on Sansa's hip.

"I'll find her." He growled, and spun around.

"You're really dating her?" Sansa blurted out, unable to stop the words, surprising herself.

Sandor stopped and threw her a look over his shoulder, the burnt side of his face toward her.

"Maybe," He replied gruffly, and then in a rougher tone - "I won't hurt her."

He stalked off without another glance.

"I'll see you before the game tonight," Joffrey called after him, before he started chuckling beside Sansa. "They have got to be the oddest couple ever!"

"Odd. Yes." She agreed distractedly.

"Arya's vicious, and he's close to feral. If anyone has a chance of keeping your bitch of a sister in line, it'll be him. God only knows what those two see in each other!"

At the back of her mind was the thought that Joffrey had no right to say such things about Sandor, or her sister for that matter, but she couldn't say anything to defend either of them at that moment.

"_I won't hurt her,_" Sandor had said.

How much jealousy could one person handle? She wanted to know. She knew that Sandor would be an infinitely better boyfriend than Joffrey, and Arya probably wouldn't realize how lucky she was.

According to popular gossip and her own observations, Arya was being pursued by two, if not three guys, all of whom were older than either Arya or Sansa.

What was it about her little sister than attracted these boys?

Jaqen H'ghar was a roguishly sexy musician, and from what she'd heard about him, he was popular with the ladies. What did he see in a fourteen year old freshman?

Gendry Waters was a tall, dark and handsome junior, also a musician, and seemed to genuinely care for Arya. She'd heard her father say good things about him and his foster family. He seemed too sweet with Arya, and she'd watched them closely from the opposite side of the quad numerous times. She believed Gendry had a crush on her sister, whether she knew it or not.

Then there was Sandor.

She bit back a sigh, and clenched her fingers into her palms were three guys that cared for Arya, while Sansa…well, she had Joffrey.

_It's not fair._

Sansa had never really truly been envious of her sister before. Usually it was the other way around. This time, and for probably the first time in her life, she understood why jealousy was referred to as a monster, regardless of the color of its eyes. There was something destructive and malignant unfurling in her chest, and causing a crawling sensation beneath her skin. It felt like there was an unnatural entity growing inside of her, feeding on her negative emotions, and that if she couldn't keep it under control it was likely to consume her.

She was envious of Arya…and she hated it.

* * *

**Gendry**

His anger had been simmering all morning, and he'd been amazed he'd driven to school without running anyone down. He must have broken every speed limit on his way in, because he'd gotten to school earlier than he'd expected.

He'd passed the time during homeroom class, and his first two periods clenching and unclenching his fists as he'd listened to the bullshit about Arya and the fucking Hound.

He thought about what he would say to Arya, but when he finally got a chance to speak to her, nothing went the way he'd intended.

He'd caught her at her locker.

"Is it true?" He had demanded as he'd spun her around to face him.

There had been fury in his eyes, and she didn't insult his intelligence by pretending not to know what he was talking about.

"It's not what you think," She'd said.

"Did he force you?"

"No, but –"

"So, you _wanted_ to kiss him?"

"No, but –" She'd began, but at Gendry's expression she'd started again, "I mean, I did, but it's not what you think!

"Did you suddenly forget who he is?"

"No, but –"

"You _willingly_ let him put his hands on you!"

"You have to let me explain!"

"What about Jaqen? Does he know that you're two-timing with that _dog_?"

"I'm not two-timing him!"

"Sure looks like you are,"

"It's not like that," She reached out to touch his arm.

"Don't!" He shoved her hand away, unable to bear her touch.

"Gendry, _please_!" She'd pleaded, but the look on his face told her that he wasn't going to listen.

Gendry swore under his breath, and then before he knew what he was doing, he'd slammed his fists into the locker on either side above her head, pressing her back against the metal so that his torso was nearly touching hers.

Arya had flinched, startled by the sound of rattling metal. His blue eyes were furious, and she looked away from him.

"I don't know what's gotten into you," Gendry had growled, sounding nothing like himself. "But right now, I don't want anything to do with you!"

He regretted his behavior the moment he'd walked away, and he spent the rest of the morning chastising himself.

_She doesn't want you. She made that clear when she kissed two other guys, not you._

He didn't like either of the guys Arya had seen fit to kiss, but at least he could see why she would choose Jaqen H'ghar.

The Hound however…that was just bizarre, and _inexplicable._ Arya had been adamant about hating the guy after what he'd done to Mycah Butcher. Gendry and Hot Pie had been witnesses to her rage, and the countless death threats all aimed at the scarred motherfucker.

He didn't understand her change of heart towards the guy at all.

_Just give up. _He told himself, _you're stuck in the friend-zone._ He hated the thought, and he knew he wasn't ready to accept it just yet.

He had to speak to her again. He realized he hadn't really let her say anything during his earlier tirade, and he sought her out again at lunch that day.

Except when he saw Arya, she was with Sandor Clegane who was leading her away from the cafeteria with a large hand on her back.

Disappointed, angry and jealous, he'd just stood there and watched her walk away.

Hot Pie found him still standing near the cafeteria not long after, and they ended up at the performing arts block sitting with Edric, Beric and Allyria. All of them had seen the Spyder's post, but at the expression on Gendry's face, wisely chose not to comment.

Gendry knew they were curious, and he believed that Edric at least suspected he had a crush on Arya, but though he didn't want to discuss it, he knew they were expecting him to say something.

"Arya's nuts, okay?" He offered pathetically, "I don't know why she did it."

"What about Jaqen?" Allyria asked.

Gendry's gut tightened, and he shrugged.

"Well, look at it this way," Edric pointed out, "Maybe the guy will be so distraught about Arya ditching him for the Hound that he'll be off his game at the competition."

Beric laughed. "You think there's a chance of that happening?"

Gendry couldn't help but roll his eyes.

The first heat of the Battle of the Bands was a week away. The _Brotherhood Without Banners_ was ready, and Gendry knew he was ready.

He'd been dreaming about the competition over the past few weeks, and in his dreams, Arya had always been at the front of the screaming crowd, cheering him on. They would win the competition of course, and Arya would fling herself into his arms and kiss him senseless.

_"See, I knew you guys would win,"_ She would say to him.

_"And how would you have known that?"_ He'd ask her.

_"Because, stupid,"_ She would call him, but it would be more of an endearment and not an insult, _"The other bands don't have you as a guitarist, and I've always known how talented you are!"_

He wanted to laugh at himself.

_You are pathetic,_ he thought, _the only way you'll have her is in your dreams._

* * *

**Arya**

Hard fingers bit into her upper arm as she was making her way to the cafeteria at lunch, and she gasped in surprise. She looked up in indignation at Sandor Clegane.

"What the fuck?"

"Shut up, little bitch." Sandor rasped above her head, and began to pull her away in the opposite direction. "We need to talk."

"So talk."

His hand moved from her arm to her back, and he pushed her along in front of him.

"Not here," He snapped, "Are you a complete idiot? This is all your doing, I hope you know."

People spotted them together, and whispers soon followed them down the hall.

"You kissed me back," She pointed out, "It's not all my doing."

"You threw yourself at me," He corrected, and he was right. "It's all your fault."

"You should have pushed me away,"

"I did,"

"You still kissed me back,"

She was right.

He grumbled, "I won't be doing it again."

"As if I'd let you." She glared at him.

He leered down at her. "Having shit for brains _would_ explain your short term memory… again, you kissed me first."

"I didn't do it because I wanted to!" She hissed, "You know why I did it."

"To distract the Spyder, yes," He agreed, "But you haven't told me why you thought kissing me was the only way to do it."

Arya groaned, thinking about the reasons she'd come up with just that morning to justify her actions. They'd sounded perfectly rational in her mind, but wondered if they'd still seem sane when spoken out aloud.

She followed him outside of the building, and didn't speak until it became apparent he was leading her to the parking lot.

"Are we going somewhere?"

He nodded, "Out for lunch. I need to eat, but all that fucking whispering back there is making me lose my appetite."

"You do realize that people are watching us leaving together?" She pointed out, "This isn't going to help."

"It's too bloody late for that." He snapped, "Isn't this what you wanted, everyone watching us instead of your sister?"

"I didn't think it was going to be this bad!"

"You didn't think?" He raised his brow incredulously, "Are you really that stupid?"

Arya bristled at the insult. No one called her stupid.

"Get in the fucking car, little bitch." He growled.

Arya angrily got into his car as he instructed and strapped herself in with jerky movements.

"How's your hand?" The Hound asked her, nodding towards the slightly discolored skin of her right hand.

"It's fine," She shrugged.

In truth, her knuckles kind of ached as a result of having punched a guy in the jaw, and she had purplish marks on her forearms and wrists from where Sandor had gripped her as he'd tried to push her away. She was wearing a long sleeve top for a reason.

She hadn't forgotten that she had been assaulted the night before, but it wasn't something she wanted to keep remembering, so she was doing her best to forget that the incident with the two drunk goons had even happened. Her parents would have coronaries if they ever found out.

"You like to avoid questions," Sandor said as he exited school grounds, "You never told me what you were doing in Flea Bottom last night."

She'd been there because of Gendry, and she sighed, which didn't go unnoticed by her surly companion.

Her earlier confrontation with Gendry had left her shaken and bewildered. She didn't know where his anger had come from, and his reaction had taken her completely off-guard. He hadn't reacted like that when he found out about her date with Jaqen.

_He never even gave me a chance to explain…stupid, stubborn, bull-headed…!_

The things she'd learned about Gendry from Lommy Greenhands were too sensitive to discuss with anyone else, and she wasn't certain about what she was going to do with the information she'd collected.

"I…I just had something I needed to do."

"In Flea Bottom?"

"Yes, in freaking Flea Bottom!" She snapped. "Just drop it, okay? I'm not going to talk about it with you."

"You haven't forgotten who saved your scrawny neck last night, have you?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," She turned in her seat to look at him, "Do you want me to say thank you, is that it? Thank you." He gave her a dirty look at the words, "I said it, now leave it alone."

"Cranky little bitch, I was just asking…" He muttered as he turned back to the road.

Through her lashes, she looked up at the hulking figure beside her, and began to list the things she'd learned about him the night before.

Sandor didn't beat up people just because he was a thug. Occasionally he beat them up in the course of rescuing girls in trouble, like she had been with the goons from the bar.

Sandor had a crush on Sansa.

Sandor had saved Sansa from the mob riot.

Sandor hung around Joffrey Baratheon, but didn't like to call him a friend.

Sandor _did_ beat up Mycah, but not to a bloody pulp. In his own backward way, he'd done it to save _her_ neck…because she was Sansa's sister. It didn't make it right, or that she agreed with what he'd done, but she now knew his side of the story.

Sandor wasn't precisely what she'd first thought him to be, and he confused the hell out of her.

They pulled up in front of the first fast-food place they came to, and Sandor ordered food and drinks for both of them. When they were seated at a table, Arya watched him eat.

"You still haven't explained to me why you kissed me," He said at length, and this time she knew what he meant.

She owed him an explanation. After all, she hadn't exactly asked for his permission first before getting him involved in the sorry mess.

"It was the first thing that came into my head," She began, almost defensively.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" He growled.

"But now I think about it…"

"Only _now_, you think about it?"

"…it seems to be the only thing I could have done that would throw the Spyder's scent off of you." She continued as though he hadn't interrupted.

"What do you mean?" His eyes narrowed.

She winced, but made herself tell him about how Joffrey probably wouldn't have understood why Sansa had been having pizza with him, and how all it would take was someone finding out that he had a crush on Sansa for there to be trouble.

"How the fuck would people find out?" He demanded, looking alarmed at the thought.

"I don't know," She shrugged, "Someone could catch you making goo-goo eyes at her."

"The hell I would!" He denied with a feral snarl.

"I'm just saying all Joff needs to hear is one rumor and he'll start going off at Sansa again," Arya's face grew grim, "I don't understand what she sees in him."

Sandor didn't reply, and it occurred to her just how strange their predicament really was. She couldn't believe she was sitting there having lunch with the Hound.

She glanced at his mouth for a second, and quickly looked away with a mental shake of her head. She couldn't believe she'd been kissing him not so long ago, either. Arya felt uncomfortable all over again, and she vowed she'd try to curb her impulsiveness in future.

While she had been shocked to learn that he had feelings for Sansa, it wasn't that big of a surprise. Heaps of guys thought Sansa was pretty. Boys had always found Sansa beautiful. She was one of those lucky girls that went straight from being a little girl to a young woman without having to go through that awkward, gangly phase where limbs were too long and one didn't quite know what to do with curves that had suddenly developed.

He would never have a chance with Sansa. Sandor was just not good-looking enough, even if he hadn't been scarred. Sansa was shallow like that. She'd always favored pretty boys.

Arya didn't feel sorry for him, exactly. She couldn't go around being sorry for every guy that had a crush on her sister, but she figured she could empathize.

Nobody enjoyed knowing that the object of their infatuation did not return their feelings.

"I still don't understand," Sandor suddenly said.

"What?"

"Why you'd do this for your sister," He clarified, "You said you haven't spoken to her in weeks."

"Not since _Joffrey_ had you beat up my friend, if you want to know the truth," She pointed out.

He noticed, just as well as she did, that she had emphasized Joffrey's name. He gave her a strange look, and Arya took it to mean that he understood. In her own way, she was telling him that she no longer blamed him for what happened to Mycah Butcher…or at least, she no longer wanted to cause him grievous bodily harm.

There was an awkward pause while they both adjusted to the unspoken acknowledgement. Both shifted in their seats.

"I don't hate my sister," She said at length, "Not really. I hate that she's with Joffrey. I hate that he can hurt her…has hurt her, and I hate that she's choosing to stay with him. I hate that she's stupid, but I don't want her hurt."

The Hound was frowning again, and she figured he was trying to understand her relationship with Sansa. She knew about his older brother, Gregor, and had heard that the brothers hated each other but not the reason why. She'd been at the exhibition game between KL Prep and KL College and had witnessed the fight on the football field. Looking back on it, she realized that the hatred between the Clegane brothers was real.  
Perhaps he wouldn't be able to understand? She thought, and wondered what could have happened between the brothers to create such hatred.

"This is fucking _bullshit_!" He finally rasped.

"I already said I didn't know it was going to turn out this way!" Arya bristled at his tone, "I didn't exactly see you trying to help Sansa yesterday when that jerk was making a scene in the quad. Why do you hang around Joffrey anyway if you say he's not your friend? How could you just stand there and let him treat Sansa that way? Do you care about her at all? And for your information this whole thing backfired on me, too!"  
"Shut the hell up!" The Hound growled at her ranting, "Let me think, would you?"

Arya sat back in the hard plastic seat and glowered at him. She knew that the rumors about them would only multiply after the way he'd marched her away from the cafeteria, and their not so subtle exit from the parking lot.

"Your stupid plan worked, you know," He stated, "Joffrey asked me about you this morning."

"What did you say?" She glanced at him sharply.

"I told him I was trying something different," He replied grudgingly, before looking her up and down, "You're not my usual type."

She grimaced at his casual inspection of her person. The Hound had a type, and against her better judgment she asked him what that was.

He smirked at her, "The one night only type."

"Asshole," She narrowed her eyes at him, "Sansa's not your usual type then, either."

The statement wiped the smirk from his scarred lips, and she almost smiled, until the next words out of his mouth had her frowning again.

"What did your friends have to say about it?"

She looked away from him, "They're not talking to me."

"What about this _Faceless Man_ punk that you're supposed to be dating?"

She raised her eyes back to him, surprised that he mentioned Jaqen. Her mouth parted, and her voice shook a little when she responded.

"I think he broke up with me…I'm not sure."

"And Gendry? Is he jealous?"

"Jealous? Why would he be jealous of you?" Arya asked, and wondered at the look Sandor gave her, as though he knew something that she didn't. "But, he's not talking to me either."

Sandor gave a humorless laugh, "This shit really did blow up in your face!"

Arya sank into her seat, angry and miserable.

"What do we do now?" She asked him.

"How the fuck should I know?" He shrugged, but then he pushed a hand through his hair, giving her a close-up of his scars in doing so, before leaning forward in his seat. "I suggest we don't say anything to anyone,"

"Huh?"

"Don't confirm or deny any of the rumors," He repeated, "To anybody. Let people think what they want to believe. That's what they'll do anyway."

"What about Joffrey and Sansa?"

"Let me handle Joffrey,"

"So, what? I'm just supposed to play along?"

"Took you long enough to figure that out."

"You want me to _pretend_ to be dating you?" She asked incredulously.

He nodded, "Just in front of Joffrey and your sister. A few weeks maybe, or long enough for Joffrey to find something else to fixate on."

"Long enough for you to get over my sister?" Arya raised her brow.

The Hound bared his teeth and snarled. "Don't go there."

She'd pushed too far once again.

"Then, what?" She asked instead.

"Then…I don't know," He shrugged, "You can publicly dump me or something, I don't care."

"What about my friends? What about Jaqen?"

Sandor shrugged, genuinely unconcerned, "They're your problem. I don't care what you tell them."

"Hardly seems fair," She grumbled.

"Fair? What isn't fair is that I got dragged into this without any say in it, and now there's even more bullshit about me going around school that I really could have done without. Now you need me to keep your precious sister safe from her psychotic jerk of a boyfriend, and get this, Arya–" He pierced her with hard stare, his grey eyes unflinching, "I _don't_ have to help you."

Her eyes widened when she realized that he was right. He might like Sansa, but he had nothing to gain from any of this.

"Lucky for you, I don't want to see your sister hurt," He continued, and Arya unclenched the fist she didn't realize she'd been clenching, "But understand that if you want me to help you, you'll have to do what I say."

She could only stare at him.

"Still think it's worth the trouble?" He asked when she didn't acknowledge him.

Arya sighed, and for a moment she did have second thoughts. She had nothing to gain from it, either. But backing out seemed cowardly, and the damage had already been done. Gendry and Hot Pie weren't speaking to her, and neither was Jaqen. What more did she have to lose?

"Only for a few weeks, and only in front of Joffrey and Sansa, otherwise we say nothing to nobody," She finally said.

Sandor nodded, "That's the plan."

"Fine," She agreed, hoping she wasn't making an even bigger mistake.

After that, they left the fast-food joint and Sandor drove them back to school just in time for afternoon classes.

"Are you coming to watch the game tonight?" He asked her when he pulled back into the parking lot.

She shook her head, "Can't. I'm being punished for breaking curfew last night."

"You're grounded?"

"Just for tonight,"

"Some punishment," He scoffed. "You won't be missing much anyway."

"Why? Who are you playing tonight?"

"The _Bears_, from Bear Island High," He replied, "They're a piss poor team. We beat them every year."

"You're right, that would be a boring game," Arya looked up at him and made a face, "It's not an interesting match unless there's a chance you could get your face pummeled to the ground!"

He rewarded her with a glare.

She might not want to kill him anymore, but there was nothing stopping her from antagonizing the shit out of him.

* * *

**What did you think of this episode? I hope it was worth the wait! Review and let me know!**

**Did you miss Jaqen? I know I did…I had planned for one more POV, but it didn't flow, so I'm putting it in a following chapter.**

**I recently joined Tumblr, so if you're interested, please see my profile for details so you can follow me there : )**


	14. Episode 14 Sleepless In King's Landing

**Here it is - the next update! **

**Thank you to everyone that reviewed Chapter 13, it was nice to hear from all of you again after so long being away.**

**This chapter took so much longer to write, and if you've been following me on Tumblr, I've kinda of blamed it on Jaqen (sorry Jaqen, I love you but you are darn difficult to write!)...so again, thank you all for your patience!**

* * *

**Episode 14**

"**Sleepless In King's Landing"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Good morning everyone!

So, our _White Knights_ kicked butts last night against the _Bears _of Bear Island High…no surprises there, our boys have beaten them every year for the past five years! Bear Island High's sporting achievements would be altogether non-existent if it weren't for their girls soccer team – this year, captained by Dacey Mormont – these ladies are on a winning streak this season!

It seems there is something between Arya Stark and the Hound if popular rumors are to be believed – not to mention the fact they were sighted leaving school grounds at lunch yesterday, and were again spotted together after school…Arya and Sandor, that public display of affection yesterday was somewhat lacking, compared to what we know you're capable of!

Arya was also seen arguing in the hallway with Gendry 'The Bull' Waters, supposedly a close friend of hers, and guitarist for Beric Dondarrion's band. Whatever you were arguing about, I hope it doesn't affect The Bull's performance for the competition this weekend!

And speaking of competition….The countdown for the Battle of The Bands Competition begins now! This coming Saturday at 2 p.m. is when it all starts, peeps! Baelor's Arena is where it's at! Be there to support our very own _Brotherhood Without Banners_, and check out what new talents will be unearthed! Tickets are available at the door!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Arya**

She felt like crap. She'd lain awake for the best part of the night, punching her pillow into shape because she couldn't get comfortable. Her mind had continued to churn and whirr, refusing to let her rest. But it was Saturday morning, she was awake, and she didn't have the luxury of going back to bed.

Sansa. Joffrey. Gendry. Jaqen. The Hound.

_They wouldn't let me sleep!_

Her thoughts went around in a constant loop, starting with the trip she'd taken into Flea Bottom two days before, and ending with the parting shot she'd left with the Hound before the football game – only to have it all rewind and replay.

After school the previous day, she'd been nonplussed to find the Hound waiting for her at her locker.

"Shouldn't you be prepping for tonight's game?" She'd asked him.

"Got a few minutes before Coach Selmy wants to see us. I'll be heading over soon as you've wished me good luck for the game," He'd said.

"Good luck," She'd said automatically.

"In front of your sister and Joffrey," He'd rolled his eyes.

"Oh," She'd frowned, realizing that the whole pretending to be dating thing was going to be tricky, "Is it really necessary?"

"It is today," He'd returned her frown, "Joff will notice that you won't be watching the game tonight. We're supposed to be together now, so let him see you wish me luck."

With an exasperated sigh, Arya had grabbed the textbooks she needed from her locker, before following Sandor down the hall.

Joffrey, Sansa, some of the cheerleaders and other members of the team had gathered around the lower bleachers at the football field. Arya had grown self-conscious, and felt a total fraud as people started turning their way.

"I'm not going down there," She'd hissed at the Hound.

"I wasn't going to make you," He'd grunted, "When we reach that bench over there, you can be a coward and kiss me where they can watch. Then you can leave."

"I'm not kissing you,"

"So, pat me on the head instead," He'd snapped, "Because that would be really convincing."

"Smartass,"

He'd grumbled something that sounded like _irritating little bitch._

They reached the bench he mentioned, and Arya had watched as he sat down to face her. Seated, his face was level with hers.

"Why are you sitting down?"

"So we can pretend to have a meaningful chat,"

"This is ridiculous!" she'd humphed.

"You're also a midget," He might have smiled then, but she hadn't been sure of his expression, "Be easier for you, rather than you trying to kiss me standing on your toes. Would you prefer we make a spectacle of it?"

"How long do I have to stand around here for?" She'd asked, ignoring him.

Sandor had glanced over her shoulder to observe the group at the bleachers, "Just keep talking,"

"About what?"

"How should I know? What did you talk about with that _Faceless _ex of yours?"

"He's not my ex."

"Thought you said he broke up with you?"

"I'm not sure we were actually together to begin with," Arya had been horrified to hear herself confess, "We'd only had the one date. We were supposed to be meeting tomorrow..."

"But he changed his mind when he saw the photos," He had completed her sentence when she'd stalled.

Arya had sniffed at the offhand way in which Sandor had spoken, and she decided she'd had enough of him.

"Okay, I think I've had all I can take of this today," She had stated.

After some moments hesitating, she had taken a step towards him and pressed a very quick and very chaste peck on his unscarred cheek, the way she would kiss Jon or Robb.

"I'm going to be wishing with all my might that just once tonight during the game, you'll get your face smushed into the ground!" Arya had said, giving him the brightest smile she could muster, before spinning on her heel and walking away.

"Wish as hard as you like, little bitch," He'd called after her, "Not gonna happen!"

When she had arrived home, she'd harassed the family's employed chef for something to eat, before heading into the TV room where her two younger brothers had been surprised to see her home so early.

"Mom said you were banned from going out tonight, but I didn't think you'd actually take her seriously." Bran had said, looking up from where he was sprawled on the floor.

"Where would I go anyway?" Arya had asked, dejectedly, "None of my friends are speaking to me,"

"Don't they like you anymore, Arya?" Rickon, who'd had command of the remote control, looked away from the cartoon he'd been watching to give his big sister a look.

Arya had shaken her head sadly, "No, they're mad at me,"

"Why?" Rickon had pressed.

She had sighed, "Because I…made friends with another boy they didn't like,"

"Why would your friends get mad at you for making more friends?"

"Because they think this boy is bad,"

"And is he a bad boy?" Rickon asked innocently, making Arya smile at his choice of words.

Sandor Clegane probably was the definition of _bad boy._

"No," Arya decided after some thought, "He isn't a bad boy. Not truly, but everyone just thinks that he is."

"Well…couldn't you just tell your friends the truth?" Rickon suggested, with all the wisdom of a seven year old, "If your other friends knew that he was really nice, then you could all become friends. Mom always says it's better to have more friends."

"I wish it were as simple as that, Rickon."

"I don't see why it has to be hard," Her baby brother had returned, before shrugging and turning back to his cartoon.

It was now Bran who was looking at her, and from the expression on his face, Arya had known that her younger brother had read between the lines.

"Is this to do with that senior you went on a date with?" Bran had asked.

"Not that senior…another senior,"

"How many boys are you dating, Arya?" Bran's eyebrows had risen.

"None…one," Arya frowned, "Oh, dammit!"

"Why is that a hard question to answer?" Bran's interest had been piqued.

Arya had been about to tell him to mind his own business, when she remembered that his logic had helped her out once before. Perhaps he could help her again?

"Look, here's the story," She'd begun, "There's this girl I know that's dating this total douchebag…"

As best as she could, and without divulging the names of anyone involved, Arya told Bran the general gist of the story.

"Like last time, Bran. None of this gets repeated to Sansa, or anyone, okay?"

"Got it,"

"So, to summarize everything I've just told you...I kissed this guy that likes this girl I know, who doesn't like him back, but whose boyfriend is a whackjob and would hurt her if he were to find out about this guy liking his girlfriend, and I only did it so people would stop talking about them because I don't want her to get hurt,"

Arya had stared at Bran, hoping he had understood her babbling because she really didn't want to have to repeat herself. Bran blinked a couple of times, before nodding his head slowly.

"And this guy you kissed is someone people think is…unsuitable? Which is why your friends are mad at you?"

"You could say that,"

"But you meant well," Bran said, and Arya realized it was the first time that it had been acknowledged.

"Yeah," She'd nodded, "I thought I was helping, and I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt,"

"And this other senior?"

"His name's Jaqen H'ghar," Arya had decided to reveal his name to Bran, "And we were supposed to be going on another date tomorrow, but he called it off when he found out about what I'd done,"

"That sucks,"

"And we were supposed to go for pancakes!" She had moaned.

"Pancakes?" Rickon's ears had been sharp, "Where?"

"This place near the mall," Arya said to Rickon, then turned to Bran again, "What do I do to fix this, Bran?"

"Is the pancake place far from here?" Rickon pressed.

"No, Rickon, it's not that far," Arya replied distractedly.

"Why are you asking me what to do?" Bran had said, "I thought you were just venting out,"

"Because you're the logical one and I only told you because I thought you could help me,"

"I don't remember making that deal,"

"Bran!"

"Can we go for pancakes tomorrow?" Piped Rickon, ignoring their bickering.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Bran had relented, "I really think you should start by being honest. Tell the truth."

"That's what I said before!" Rickon added helpfully.

"Thank you, Rickon...Tell Jaqen the truth? Or tell my friends?" She'd asked.

"All of them," Bran shrugged, "You can't mend friendships, or relationships without honesty and communication."

"Where did you learn that?"

"Dr. Phil, I believe."

"You're kidding, right?" Arya had scoffed, but Bran had been serious, "What if Jaqen won't listen? He hung up on me!"

"You have to try, and try again. If he really won't hear you out, then he's probably not worth the effort."

Arya had rolled her eyes, but knew that Bran was right. Somehow, she had to make Jaqen listen to her…Gendry and Hot Pie, too.

"So, can we go out for pancakes tomorrow?" Rickon had asked, yet again, "We can be your date, Arya. Couldn't we, Bran?"

Bran turned to Rickon, then to Arya questioningly. Arya had looked at Rickon's hopeful little face, so happy at the prospect of pancakes, and found it hard to deny him.

"Sure," She'd smiled at him, "Ask mom first, and if she says okay, then it's a date!"

She'd spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV with her brothers, and when they were called to dinner she had a somewhat polite, if abrupt conversation with her mother.

Her father arrived home halfway through dinner, and he'd given her a perplexed look, as though to say _it's Friday night, why are you here?_

Jory Cassel had followed him into the dining room, and joined them for dinner as he'd done many times in the past. Arya had very few memories of her father where Jory wasn't far behind him. He had no formal job title, but her father trusted him, and whatever it was that Eddard Stark asked of him, Jory made sure it was done.

It wasn't until Arya had excused herself to go to her room that she remembered the questions she'd wanted to ask Jory about Gendry.

The information that Lommy Greenhands had told her about Gendry's past, and Bruce telling her about Jory being at the 'Lucky 8' before her and asking questions about Gendry, had made her more curious than ever. She wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery that was Gendry Waters.

It hadn't really dawned on her before just how much she didn't know about the boy whom she considered to be a close friend. Looking back on it, she realized that Gendry only ever told her things he wanted her to know, and let her see what he wanted her to see.

She had a feeling that she was onto something big…something important. But she knew that if she wanted to get any information out of Jory, she needed to have her wits about her…or at least be in the mood to play the sweet-little-girl-Arya (she shuddered) that Jory always found hard to say no to.

She would find a way to make things okay with Gendry again, she had vowed. She had to.

The Battle of The Bands competition was that coming weekend, and she wanted to be there to support him. She'd imagined she would be in the front row, screaming her lungs out, like she had when he'd first auditioned for the _Brotherhood._

Jaqen's band was in the competition as well, and if she hadn't gone and screwed things up, she would have been screaming herself hoarse cheering for him too.

Arya had then spent the rest of the night in front of her computer stalking Gendry on Facebook, messaging Jon and Robb, and checking out video clips of Jaqen on YouTube. She'd found out that their school team had won the game through a Facebook post, and had been peeved to note that Sandor hadn't had his face smushed into the ground.

Sleep was long coming, and it seemed she'd barely closed her eyes...before Rickon had suddenly come barging into her bedroom.

"Wake up, Arya!" He laughed, "We're going to have pancakes this morning!"

It was all she could do not to groan.

"Okay," She'd yawned, "Wake Bran, then go and get yourself dressed. I'll be up in a minute."

"Don't take too long, okay?" Rickon pouted, "You _always_ take too long to get dressed."

"All right, I promise," Arya had laughed, and forced herself to swing her legs down to the floor.

After Rickon left her room, she picked up her phone to check her emails and alerts. Sure enough, there was an alert from the Gossip Spyder.

She groaned into her pillow when she found her name, Sandor's and Gendry's mentioned. She wasn't really surprised to see that Gendry's outburst by her locker had also been noted. It wasn't like he'd been careful about keeping his voice down. He'd practically been shouting at her by the end of his rant.

_Gendry won't be happy when he sees this._

* * *

**Jaqen**

Jaqen wondered why he had bothered to turn up at the pancake and waffle house that morning. It wasn't as if Arya would be there waiting for him. He'd told her he didn't want to see her, and besides it was closer to lunch than it was breakfast. The Spyder's post that morning had done nothing to improve his mood, and yet he'd still found himself making his way to the pancake house.

The post from the previous day had caught him off-guard, and after his abrupt phone call to Arya, he'd spent the rest of the day alternating between feeling jealous, sorry for himself, and angry.

He'd gotten a song out of it, though. The lyrics had come to him in bursts throughout his classes, and by the time school had let out he'd had a decent bass line and melody to go with it. He'd met up with the guys afterwards, and by midnight they had an angst-ridden rock song ready to rehearse.

"Angry Jaqen writes better stuff than dopey-happy Jaqen," Jorge had stated.

"Angry Jaqen likes being insulted even less than dopey-happy Jaqen," He'd scowled at his friend.

"What is it with you and this girl?" Ky had asked him, "You haven't told us much about her, but how many songs have you written since you met her? She means more to you than what you're telling us."

Jaqen had sighed and shrugged, "It does not matter, now."

His friends had exchanged glances, but it had been Izembaro who'd braved his wrath by bringing up the subject of the photos they had seen online.

"Have you spoken to her, Jaqen?" Izembaro had asked, "What did she say?"

Again, Jaqen had shrugged. "What is there for her to say? She was kissing another guy."

"Did you ask her why?"

"Usually when a girl is kissing someone else instead of you, it means she no longer wants you." He replied.

"You're an idiot," Ky had told him, "You never gave her a chance, did you?"

Jaqen had glared at the bass player.

"Man, I know you," The guy continued, "You're a stubborn sonofabitch, and you have a bad habit of disregarding people without hearing them out."

Jaqen had winced at his friend's words, but Ky had been right. His stubbornness had gotten him into trouble in the past, and had cost him at times. Like the time he'd asked a girl out in his sophomore year, and she'd told him she had other commitments at the time but he could take her number and call her at a later date.

He had assumed she was brushing him off and his stubborn pride hadn't allowed him to call her. He had also assumed that the number she'd given him was probably a fake. It turned out that the girl had gone to her grandmother's funeral in another state, and by the time he'd worked out his error, the girl had moved on and was dating someone else.

Ky had made a very valid point.

"She was kissing _another_ guy," Jaqen had insisted.

"You broke up with her," Jorge had observed.

"Not in so many words…"

"Then hear her out," Ky had said, "You owe it to yourself to learn the truth,"

"And if I don't like what she has to say?"

"Then you get over her and move on," Ky replied, "Don't forget, the competition begins next Saturday. We can't have you moody like this,"

"Ah, of course!" Jaqen had rolled his eyes, "Your concern is about the competition…you really were not concerned about me,"

His friends had chuckled.

"Competition, first. You, second," Ky had agreed.

"Jerks, all of you!" Jaqen had called them.

He had gone to bed, but had not slept very well. He kept seeing the image of Arya with the Hound, and replaying the brief conversation he had had with Arya over the phone. She had told him that it wasn't what it looked like, and he'd reproached her for being fickle.

_"Just yesterday afternoon you were telling me that you missed me and were agreeing to meet me for a second date, and yet you were seen kissing another guy just__ hours__ later. What am I to make of that, Arya?"_

_"The Hound means nothing to me,"_

_"You hate the Hound, and yet you kissed him. That only makes me wonder about what I might really mean to you,"_

That's what really got him thinking. Had she been kissing any other guy, he might not have thought about it so hard, but it was the Hound, and he knew that there was a history there that he did not understand.

Jaqen recalled an incident going back several weeks, to the night of the first football game of the season to be precise. His school had played against KL Prep, and his school had lost by two points. He and his friends had gone to watch the match. After the game, he had come across a livid Arya confronting a frightening looking Hound.

He remembered that Arya had been involved in an unfortunate altercation with her sister's boyfriend, Joffrey Baratheon, and a friend of Arya's had been hurt with the Hound being somehow implicated.

When he had come upon them, Arya had been arguing with the Hound about that very thing.

_"I'm not afraid of you!"_Arya had yelled at the linebacker.

_"Maybe you should be,"_ The Hound had snarled back. _"Don't you know? You shouldn't get in my way."_

_"Or else what? You'll beat me up like you did Mycah?"_

Jaqen had watched as the Hound denied her accusations, and as Arya called him a coward.

_"What exactly are you accusing me of, bitch? And be careful what you say next."_ The Hound had hissed at Arya.

_"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about…I'm talking about you beating up a freshman half your size, for something that had nothing to do with him, just because that prick Joffrey ordered you to do it!"_

The Hound laughed before he'd grabbed at Arya and pulled her so that he had been right in her face.

_"You have no idea what you're talking about, little bitch!"_ He had growled,_"And be careful of who might be listening before you go accusing Joffrey."_

Arya had called him out for daring to threaten her, which he had denied.

That's when the Hound had shaken Arya by her shoulders, and Jaqen had rushed forward to help her.

_"Go on. Keep pushing me, little bitch! I dare you."_

_"Let me go!"_Arya had cried.

The Hound had let her go, but Arya had gone on to recite ways in which she would like to see the Hound dead.

_"Stop trying to come up with ways to kill me. It won't do you any good."_

Jaqen had reached Arya just as she was about to pounce at the Hound.

"_You have more courage than sense, lovely girl_." Jaqen had said to her, all the while glaring at the Hound.

If he had not stopped her at that point, Arya would have regretted it.

_"I guess you've heard the story going around…about that photo of me and Joffrey."_ She had asked him when the Hound had departed.

He had told her that he had heard a few versions, but not the truth.

Arya had never volunteered to tell him before, and he hadn't thought to insist on it, thinking she would open up to him eventually. Now, he decided he would insist on it.

_"It's not what you think,"_ Arya had told him on the phone.

If she was going to tell him the truth about the kiss, then she may as well tell him the truth about everything. If they were to have a shot at the boyfriend-girlfriend thing, then he didn't want half-truths between them, or to have to play guessing games.

Jaqen was now standing on the footpath directly outside of the pancake and waffle house, staring up at the giant waffle signage perched above the doorway. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he'd skipped breakfast.

Perhaps, he could grab a hot chocolate, and then find a quiet corner somewhere where he could call Arya and convince her to meet him, he thought.

Jaqen walked inside, and immediately his sense of smell was assaulted with the scent of maple syrup, cinnamon, chocolate and vanilla. The air felt warm and slightly heavy, but it was oddly comforting. Like being wrapped in a blanket made entirely of fluffy buttermilk…pancake.

Jaqen bit his tongue at the same moment his stomach chose to rumble again. _A man needs a short-stack with vanilla ice cream and maple syrup._

He had almost reached the counter when something thumped into his side, and on instinct he reached out to grab it. It turned out to be a small boy with unruly auburn hair.

"Hey, little man," He smiled at the little boy, "What's your hurry?"

"Sorry," The boy looked up at him.

"No harm done," Jaqen said, "But you may want to slow down, okay?"

The boy nodded, but he seemed to be staring instead at Jaqen's unusually streaked hair.

"There you are!"

Jaqen looked up to see another auburn haired boy, older and taller than the one who'd smacked into him, come loping towards them.

"What did mom say about you running off like that?" The older boy asked of the other, who was clearly his younger brother.

"I said sorry,"

"What did you do?"

"Nothing serious," Jaqen took it upon himself to answer on the boy's behalf, "He was just agreeing that he should not be running indoors, right little man?"

"Right," The boy nodded, still looking at Jaqen's hair, "Your hair's so cool!"

"Thank you," Jaqen replied, "I'm in a band…it's part of my look,"

"You're in a band? That's awesome!"

"Rickon, don't bug him," The older boy put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder and pushed him towards the counter, "Sorry for whatever he did,"

"It was nothing," Jaqen followed them to the counter where they joined the queue.

The restaurant was filling up quickly, and Jaqen wondered if he'd be able to find a seat. He had his stomach set on pancakes now.

"So, what's the name of your band?" The little boy, Rickon, asked him.

"Rickon…" Warned the older boy.

"It's quite all right," Jaqen said, "My band is called _The Faceless Men_,"

"What instrument do you play? I have another older brother that plays the guitar,"

"I play many instruments, including the guitar," Jaqen found Rickon's enthusiasm amusing. It wasn't often that he was questioned by a grade-schooler.

"Wow!" The little boy grinned, "I'm Rickon, by the way…and this is my brother," He looked up at his older brother.

"Brandon," Said the older boy, holding out his hand, "Bran for short,"

"Jaqen," He took Bran's hand and shook it.

Bran's eyes narrowed at his name, "You're Jaqen H'ghar?"

"The one and only," It was not unusual for people to recognize his name, given his somewhat public profile.

"I heard from my sister that you're kind of famous around here,"

"Is that so?" Jaqen asked as the queue shuffled forward.

"You're going to be in that competition this coming weekend," Bran stated.

"That's correct," Jaqen confirmed, "It's the biggest competition for unsigned bands around,"

"Are you going to be eating here alone?" Bran asked directly, looking him in the eyes.

Jaqen wondered why it was that he felt like he was being stared down by the father of a prospective date. Bran didn't look older than thirteen, but the eyes of the boy and the expression in them made Jaqen think of Uncle Otto, and the way he always saw more than he gave away.

"I am," Jaqen replied, "But it does not look like I will be able to get a table. I may just get a hot chocolate to go."

"Would you like to join us?" Bran invited him.

"Yeah, would you?" Rickon seconded, "It's just me and Bran, and our sister. She's saving a table for us,"

Jaqen began to decline, "I couldn't impose, and your sister may not –"

"She wouldn't mind," Rickon insisted, "She likes making new friends, and…oh! She plays the guitar, too!"

"Does she?" Jaqen laughed.

"Well, she's learning…" Rickon corrected himself.

"Really, Jaqen," Bran said again, "You're more than welcome to join us."

In honest truth, he really didn't want to sit by himself. He was also procrastinating, he admitted. Sitting with company would buy him a few more moments before he would have to call Arya. Besides, the boys seemed friendly enough.

"Then, I will join you for breakfast," Jaqen accepted the invitation, and spent the next few minutes in the queue talking to Bran and listening to Rickon talk about his recent soccer match.

Bran ordered and paid for three meals, and Jaqen asked for his order to be delivered with Bran's, before he followed the boys to a table towards the rear of the restaurant.

Rickon bounded ahead, and Jaqen's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the girl sitting at the table Rickon had stopped at.

She was wearing black leggings that day, under an oversized grey tunic top, and boots. Her hair had been pulled into a careless ponytail high on the back of her head.

"Arya, we made a new friend and he's joining us for breakfast!"

"You, what? Who?"Arya turned around in her seat, caught sight of Jaqen and lost all color in her cheeks.

"Arya, this is Jaqen," Bran said with an innocent smile, "Jaqen, this is our sister Arya."

Jaqen regained his composure and smiled at Arya, "It is…lovely to meet you,"

At that point, he recalled their first date and remembered Arya telling him about her family and describing her siblings, all of whom had auburn hair, except for an older half-brother. He looked at Bran again, realizing that he was only twelve years old.

"Er…yes. Lovely to meet you too." She stammered, "Please, sit down."

Arya indicated the seat in front of her, while her brothers occupied the remaining two chairs.

"Jaqen's in a band, Arya," Rickon began to chatter, "And, he was going to eat alone so Bran invited him."

Jaqen watched Arya's face, wondering at the fickleness of Fate and the opportunity he had been given. Her eyes had flickered to meet his briefly, and then she'd looked away.

"Oh, that was _kind_ of Bran," Arya said, and gave Bran a hard look.

"I recognized his name, Arya," Bran said, and this time he looked at Jaqen meaningfully, "I've heard you talk about…his band…before, and I knew you wouldn't mind,"

"You have such a good memory, Bran," Arya returned.

It became clear to Jaqen that the siblings were speaking in some code, and it was about him. Bran knew more than he was letting on, and Jaqen's first impression of the boy seemed correct.

"It's a beautiful day," Jaqen decided it was time to join the conversation, "It is a nice thing to see a sister spend time with her brothers like this,"

"We're on a date," Rickon declared, "Well, actually Arya was supposed to be on a date with another boy, but he changed his mind, and Arya got upset because they were supposed to have pancakes, so Bran and I said we'd be her date instead,"

Jaqen raised an eyebrow while Arya's face turned bright red, Bran looked bemused, and Rickon kept smiling innocently.

"You have wonderful brothers, Arya," Jaqen stated, "But, why did this other boy change his mind?"

"That's kind of a long story…" Arya replied.

"I know this one!" Rickon cried, "It's because Arya was trying to help some other girl, by kissing this other boy, because some whackjob wanted to hurt someone, and he was unsuitable…wait, I'm confused," Rickon screwed up his nose, "It's complicated."

There was a revelation somewhere in the boy's rambling, but all Jaqen could focus on was the word _whackjob_, and he smiled though he tried not to. Evidently, Arya confided in her younger brothers…or in Bran, to be sure. The boy had not stopped watching him.

"That's enough, Rickon," Bran said, "Maybe Arya can tell him that story after we eat,"

Fate had not acted alone, Jaqen decided. She'd had an accomplice in Brandon Stark.

"I'm sure Jaqen has things to do today," Arya glanced at him again.

"As it turns out I have plenty of time to hear stories today," Jaqen leaned forward in his seat, and purposely moved his leg under the table so that his booted foot made contact with hers, making her look up to meet his eyes, "I had already cleared my schedule because I was supposed to meet someone…something came up last minute…but I may have been too hasty in cancelling my original plans,"

Arya's lips had parted slightly when she understood what he was getting at. He wanted to talk, and he was willing to hear whatever she had to say.

"After breakfast, we were planning on going to that mini-golf place that opened up nearby," Arya said quietly, "Maybe, you'd like to come with us? We could do with another player,"

"Sure," Jaqen allowed himself to smile at her, "That sounds like a lot of fun,"

When their pancakes, waffles, hot chocolates and Rickon's juice arrived, Jaqen found himself participating in a conversation that revolved around cartoons, Rickon's soccer matches, books Bran had read, Jaqen's band and exactly how many instruments he played, and plenty of mentions of various members of the Stark family.

It was an experience that Jaqen found himself enjoying. He'd pretty much been raised as an only child, and while he had never lacked for company growing up, he couldn't help being a little envious of the bond the Stark siblings obviously shared.

After they had finished breakfast, Jaqen led his present company to his Jeep and drove the short distance to the mini-golf park. Bran immediately took responsibility of Rickon, leaving Jaqen and Arya in relative privacy.

The mini-golf park had three courses, each more challenging than the last, and each themed after a certain manner. They followed Arya's brothers on the beginner course, which had a dungeons and dragons theme.

"Why were you at the pancake house this morning, Jaqen?" Arya asked him while she lined up her first shot.

"I had nowhere else to be," He replied.

"Oh,"

They could no longer stall the conversation, so Jaqen made it easy for her.

"Start at the beginning, Arya," He said, "Tell me all of it,"

So she did. Beginning with a sigh, Arya began to speak, and while they played a terrible round of mini-golf, Jaqen heard the truth behind the photos of Arya and the blonde Baratheon, the story of her friend Mycah, the Hound's involvement, about her sister Sansa and her blindness to her boyfriend's true nature.  
There were some parts in her story that he could tell she was glossing over, like how she came to be in the Hound's car for starters, but he chose not to pick on details just yet. Not when the picture she was painting was already so bizarre as it was.

"You are telling me that the Hound…Sandor Clegane, is interested in your sister?" Jaqen asked, brows furrowed.

"Yes,"

"Not you?"

"Not me," She confirmed, "He thinks I'm a pain, and the sentiment is mutual,"

"Yet you still kissed him,"

"It won't happen again,"

"But, you have just told me that the Hound expects you to pretend to be _his_ girlfriend," He challenged, "I do not like this, Arya."

They had given up all pretense of playing mini-golf by this stage, and now they sat on hard plastic chairs near the obstacle courses where they could keep an eye on her brothers.

Arya's spirits appeared to have dampened, and there was a stiffness in the set of her shoulders that gave away her discomfort.

"I didn't know what else to do, Jaqen," She said softly, but her expression was stubborn.

Jaqen ran a hand through his hair, frustrated by what he had just heard. He was hoping that speaking to Arya would put to rest the doubts he'd had about where he stood in their relationship…or whatever it was they had. And while in some way it had, the situation that Arya had put herself in just served to raise more questions and doubts.

"You are playing games, Arya," He said quietly, "And people will get hurt."

She turned to look at him, "I'm sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt,"

He believed her. Admitted, he still didn't know her very well, but he didn't think that the girl in front of him – the same girl who took her little brothers to breakfast and mini-golf, the same girl who wanted to protect her sister from a sadistic boyfriend – was capable of intentionally hurting someone.

_No, it is her impetuousness and recklessness that are lethal. _He thought.

"Your friends…The Bull and the Pie Boy, they are not speaking to you?"

"No," She shook her head, "But, I haven't had the chance to explain any of this to them yet,"

"I cannot blame them for being angry with you. They are in a better position to understand the possible threat to you, being at the same school as the Hound," He began, "He has a reputation, Arya, and nothing of what I have heard about him brings me any comfort."

"He won't hurt me," Arya said, "I told you what happened,"

"I know, but you cannot deny that he is a dangerous guy,"

She looked away and said nothing.

"I do not want you with him," He stated.

"It's not real, Jaqen," She said again, "It's an act, and only for a few weeks,"

"All in the name of helping your sister," He couldn't prevent the scorn that crept into his voice.

"You don't know Joffrey!" Arya bit out defensively, "You weren't there, you didn't see how he was hurting her!"

"Have you tried speaking to your sister?"

"She's not going to listen to me!" She cried, "Sansa only sees what Sansa wants to see. She doesn't realize…she doesn't know she needs protection from her own boyfriend,"

"And you know this for sure? You know that this is how your sister truly feels?"

There was a moment when doubt flitted across her face, but it was gone too soon.

"She declared it in front of the whole school. Everyone heard her."

"People often lie to protect themselves. How do you know she wasn't merely saying what her boyfriend wanted to hear?"

Doubt reappeared on her features, and this time it lingered. It seemed that the notion had not crossed her mind before. Jaqen could almost see her mind working, searching for signs she might not have seen before.

"Sansa's not a very good liar...Joffrey would know," Arya eventually said, looking distressed.

"She does not have to be a good liar," Jaqen said, "She just has to lie well enough to convince him, and perhaps what she does is...enough."

Arya sighed, and they sat in silence for some minutes, both of them thinking. At length, she spoke again, changing the subject. She asked him something he never thought he would have to answer.

"Jaqen, why did you ask me for three dates?"

He'd looked at her then, feeling foolish.

"Because I thought that three dates would be enough for you to be convinced." He said.

"Convinced of what?"

"That you want only to be with me."

She inhaled sharply at his response, before grimacing, "But, now you really have changed your mind...after what I've just told you."

"I'm not sure that I have," He replied.

Her eyes flew to his, and they were wide, "You...you still...?"

He gave her a saddened smile and nodded, "I still like you, sweet girl. But I will need a little time to think about the things you have told me..."

"Why, Jaqen?" She blurted out, "Why do you like me?"

He gave a little shake of his head and chuckled.

"I like you for the very same reasons that we are in the mess that we find ourselves in," He replied. "Lovely girl, I like you for your impulsiveness, and your fearlessness. I like you for your loyalty, and I like that you don't try to fit into the mold. You don't seem to be afraid to be yourself, unlike a lot of other girls who seem to think they have to fit a certain image. I like that you wear no masks that I have to try and get behind."

"Oh,"

He had overwhelmed her with his response, that was clear. She was flushed, and fidgety.

"Do you want to know why...why I like you?"

Jaqen did. He truly did. However, he did not believe that Arya clearly knew the reasons herself. She was so inexperienced at dating, he didn't believe she'd really thought about why she wanted to be with him...if she really wanted to be with him?

"Not right now, Arya," He shook his head, "I think there are some things you need to think about, including whether you truly want to be with me. You have to clear things up with your sister, and your friends...and then there is this business with the Hound..."

"Jaqen, I..."

"I'm insisting on it, sweet girl," He stalled her protests, "I need to know where I stand with you. You need to tell me what you want, Arya."

He prayed to Fate that Arya's answers would be the ones he wanted to hear.

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa had tossed and turned for most of the night and she had woken up feeling lousy. She had gotten home at about ten p.m. the night before from the post-game party that Joffrey had insisted she go to. She really hadn't been in the mood, and she'd taken the first opportunity to leave, hitching a ride home with Randa.

Sandor had not gone to the party celebrating their team's victory over Bear Island High. Joffrey had made some comment about his absence being related to Arya.

"Where's your little girlfriend going?" Joffrey had asked Sandor before the game, watching as Arya had parted from Sandor, "She's not coming to watch you?"

Sandor had shaken his head, "She's grounded."

"What for?"Joffrey had snickered.

"I brought her home past curfew last night," Sandor had replied.

Sansa had known about Arya's punishment for breaking curfew, and she'd known that it was because her sister had been with Sandor, but hearing him talk about it made her chest tighten painfully. Jealously.

She'd watched, along with everyone else, as Sandor had walked side by side with Arya down to the bench near the football field and as they talked. Everyone had speculated about what they could be talking about, but it didn't matter, in Sansa's opinion. They could have been talking about football and she still would have been jealous.

Then Arya had kissed Sandor's cheek, his good one, and everyone had giggled about how restrained they were. But Arya had been smiling as she'd walked away from Sandor, and he'd called something out to her with an answering expression on his face that Sansa knew to be a smile.

When she had gotten home, she had walked by Arya's closed bedroom door and heard music coming from inside. She had paused outside the door, wondering if she should tell Arya that the team had won and that Sandor had played well, but she'd walked away in the end.

Sansa knew that she would have to speak to her sister soon. Their silence had gone on far too long, and it appeared Arya had forgiven the guy responsible for part of the reason they had stopped speaking in the first place.

Sandor had been blamed for the injuries sustained by Arya's friend, and his subsequent departure from King's Landing Prep. Did it mean Sandor was innocent, after all? _Maybe he is, _ Sansa decided. Arya wouldn't be dating him if he was in some way responsible.

_But that doesn't mean Joffrey is off the hook, either_. It was Joffrey that had been pictured in that scuffle with Arya, not Sandor Clegane. She had never received a satisfactory explanation from anyone about what really happened to Arya's friend, and the more she witnessed Joffrey's temper, the more she believed him to be behind it.

How the hell was she going to rid herself of him? He'd become more possessive of her ever since the rumors of her cheating on him had started. She did not enjoy his attention, or the extra touching. She knew that he didn't really care for her. He cared only about keeping her by his side because she, Sansa Stark, made him more popular. As a couple, they were the most talked about people in school.

Together, they were powerful. Kids literally stepped out of their way when they walked down the halls, they always got the best table in the quad, and people gave up their place in queues for them.

"People like you, Sansa," Jeyne had commented once, "Everyone used to find Joffrey really unapproachable, especially when the Hound was around. But since you started dating him, they see him differently."

She now saw a meaning behind Jeyne's words that she hadn't understood before.

Before she had come along, Joffrey would get his way through intimidation and coercion. But with her as his girlfriend, people did things like giving up their place in the queue and vacating the best seat in the quad because of _her._

She made Joffrey look good. Whether he knew that or not, he seemed to realize that having a girlfriend that everyone liked was a benefit to him.

_Great,_ she thought. _All I have to do is find some girl who's willing to take him off my hands._

She wanted to laugh at the idiocy behind that idea. Where was she going to find a girl pretty enough to attract Joffrey's eye, who wanted attention and popularity that badly?

Sighing, Sansa got out of bed and went to her bathroom to wash her face. When she went downstairs, she was informed that Arya had taken Bran and Rickon out for pancakes.

"The boys had wanted to ask you to go with them," Her mother told her, "But we figured you would be sleeping in."

Had it been a normal Saturday morning, she would have been sleeping in and would not have wanted to be bothered about pancakes. But she was feeling particularly sensitive, and felt left out.

In any case, it saved her from being put in an awkward position with Arya before she was ready.

So, she had a late breakfast by herself in the kitchen and stared out of the large bay window that overlooked the rear garden of Chateau Meagor. The leaves on the trees had changed color, and she found a momentary calm just watching the orange-red-gold foliage waving in the autumn breeze.

After she'd eaten she went back to her room and read the latest post from the Spyder, briefly amused at the part about Arya being seen arguing with her friend Gendry. Obviously, the guy hadn't taken the news of Arya dating the Hound all that well.

With the house being so quiet, Sansa spent some time catching up on her homework, and was happy in the knowledge that Joffrey wouldn't be calling her until much later in the day, if he called at all. They guy liked to party, and was probably nursing a hangover from the night before. _Small mercy,_ she thought.

It was while she was trying to read her science text book that she fell asleep, both from sheer boredom induced by the topic, and from not having slept the night before. When she next awoke, the light coming in through her bedroom window had changed letting her know that it was well past noon, and the noises downstairs alerted her that Arya and her brothers had returned.

She'd been careful to avoid her sister so far, but with their bedrooms side by side, they were bound to bump into each other sooner or later.

They met on the landing just outside their bedroom doors. Sansa was on her way downstairs to find a snack, and Arya appeared to be on her way up to her room. One stared at the other, each wondering who would break the silence first.

It was Arya that spoke first.

"I was wrong about him," She said, and Sansa knew that she was talking about Sandor, "He's not a bad guy. He's not what everyone believes him to be. Not really."

Sansa already knew that about him. She'd seen for herself that Sandor Clegane was not the monster he appeared on the outside.

"So, he didn't do it?" Sansa asked.

Arya understood what she was referring to, and her sister sighed and looked away, "The thing is...he did."

"_What did you say_?" Sansa had not expected to hear that answer.

Arya's stance became determined, "Sandor did hurt Mycah. I made him tell me the truth."

"But, why did he do it? I don't understand."

"Look, Sansa." Arya began, "I know you're really into Joffrey, but you know how I feel about him. I've never hid it from you that I don't like him. Especially after what happened outside that dessert cafe..."

"Just tell me what's going on, Arya," Sansa snapped.

"Fine," Arya took a step towards her, "Joffrey wanted to get revenge on me for making a fool out of him in front of everyone, except Sandor stepped in before...before Joffrey could humiliate me in public...and unfortunately Mycah took the fall, instead of me."

Sansa could only stare at her sister in silence, digesting her words. If she had been told the same thing a few weeks before, she would not have believed her. However, she'd experienced firsthand Joffrey's ability to hurt people, and his inclination towards making a scene in public. Arya wasn't making this up.

"Sandor did this...for you?"

Arya shrugged, "Well, yeah. I guess."

"He protected you...from Joffrey?"

"Yes," Arya replied.

Sandor had protected her sister from Joffrey, all those weeks ago. It wasn't just public humiliation that Sandor had saved her sister from. Joffrey could have hurt her.

Could Sandor have been interested in Arya the whole time? Sansa didn't know if she could handle that.

"Sansa, what I'm trying to tell you is that you need to open your eyes and start seeing Joffrey for what he is,"

Sansa said nothing, and Arya took that as a sign to continue.

"Joffrey hurt you the other day, we all saw it..."

_And no one came to defend me._ Sansa thought sadly.

"...he hurt you, and you said that you still wanted to be with him..."

_Because I didn't want people thinking I cheated on him. And for what? For the sake of my stupid honor?_

"...Sansa, if Sandor can see what Joffrey is capable of, why can't you?"

_I do see,_ she wanted to say to her sister. _But now I'm too embarrassed and ashamed to admit that I've made a mistake. I can't tell you that you were right about Joffrey all along, and I can't tell you that I want to be out of this relationship with him so badly, because I don't want Sandor looking at me with pity._

In his own way Sandor had tried to tell her to be careful, but she hadn't seen his words for the warnings they actually were.

_"Look. In another reality, I'd be telling you to save yourself some pain and give him what he wants...but that would be the worst advice I could give you right now."_ He'd said to her once, on the night of her birthday.

_"You want my real advice, Sansa?"_

_"Yes, that's what I've been asking."_

_ "No, you're asking me to give you the advice you want to hear. Sorry to disappoint you, little bird, but I won't lie to you."_

_"Then be honest,"_

_"My advice is not to give him what he wants...Not if you doubt yourself, or him. Don't give him anything you don't want to give him. Do you understand me?"_

_"Why are you telling me this? He's your friend."_

_"Maybe...But I'm not the one walking around with butterflies and fairytales in my head."_

Even then, Sandor had known how blinded she'd been. He probably knew Joffrey better than anyone, and he'd tried to tell her. Except she hadn't been listening.

"Sansa?" Arya's voice broke into her reverie, "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Sansa shook her head, "I can't talk about this...not right now...not today."

_I can't tell you what's going on in my head, Arya, because most of my thoughts are about Sandor...your boyfriend...I can't let you see how jealous of you I am._

"We need to talk about this," Arya insisted, "Please...this is important."

"I know," Sansa nodded, and started back towards her room, "I just cant...I need to think,"

Arya backed off, and nodded in understanding. "When you're ready, you know where to find me."

Sansa closed the door behind her, and slid down to the floor. A moment later, she heard her sister's own bedroom door close with a click.

She really did need to think, and it was while she was still sitting on the floor that Sansa realized that throughout Arya's accusations towards Joffrey, she hadn't uttered one syllable in his defense.

* * *

**A/N**

**I really do value all of your comments and reviews, so please let me know your thoughts!**

**To Julia Aurelia - thanks again for Dacey Mormont!**

**To 'mrm' - why do you not have a fanfiction account? I'd dearly love to respond to your reviews in a PM - mainly to ask you how the hell are you reading my mind? ha ha ha!**

**P.S. The Battle of The Bands Competition is finally here! So, expect to see some Gendrya next update, YAY!**


	15. Episode 15 The Heat Is On

**Okay, so if you've been following me on Tumblr you will know that two days ago this chapter began as 4711 words...well it just kept growing and growing and this is the result. **

**It is rough, and I will have to come back and fine-tune the editing in a couple of days - but you guys have been so patient, so I won't make you wait any longer.**

**In a discussion with 'mrm' - it became evident that I needed to provide a short re-cap/ timeline of events as people may have forgotten just how little time has elapsed between key events in the story.**

Saturday - Riots at Myrcella's farewell (chap 10)  
Sunday - Sansa recuperates after the riot at home, decides she wants to break up with him (chap 11)  
Mon/Tue/Wed - At some point, Sansa realises she has a crush on Sandor, and she goes for pizza with him Wednesday after school (chap 11)  
Thursday - Sansa and girls gossip about Sandor, incoming text from Gossip Spyder (chap 11)  
Thursday (still) - Sandor overhears the girls gossiping about him, Gossip Spyder spills about her being seen with a guy, and Sansa has public fight with Joffrey. That same night, Arya runs into Sandor in Flea Bottom, and she kisses him in his car (chap 12)  
Friday - Gossip Spyder posts the pictures of Arya and Sandor online, we see everyones' reactions (chap 13)  
Friday/ Saturday - Sansa witnesses Arya kiss Sandor on the cheek, the following day Arya has pancake with Jaqen and her brothers, then Sansa and Arya talk Saturday afternoon (chapter 14)

**On with the story...**

* * *

**Episode 15**

"**The Heat Is On"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Good morning boys and girls!

Five days until the Battle of The Bands peeps! Baelor's Arena is going to be _the_ place to be this Saturday! The competition website says that there are ten amateur bands entering Heat One…six will go on to Heat Two, but only three will battle it out in the Finals, with the winner being announced on the night! Who will win? With the prize including a meeting with _Marillion Records_ and a recording contract, it will all come down to which band wants it most!

In other news…

Arya Stark, you have some explaining to do! I have it on good authority that those auburn haired boys are your younger brothers…but there is no mistaking Jaqen H'ghar for anyone else! It all looks perfectly innocent – pancakes and mini-golf with your brothers – but you were rumored to be dating him _before_ you hooked up with the Hound…so is there anything we should know about?

In yet more news…

I heard that mover's trucks were seen entering the grounds of _La Maison des Fleurs_ over the weekend. A little sparrow told me that a certain, prominent family from Highgarden have rented out the mansion…but I'll check back with you later once I've confirmed this bit of information!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Sandor**

He found the little bitch at her locker just before the start of class, and he ignored the looks thrown their way when he stood behind Arya and growled above her head.

"Cheating on me already, are you?"

Arya whipped around, then tilted her head up to glare at him, "I am not cheating on you…Oh, wait. _What am I saying_?" she frowned at him, "_I am not with you!"_

She said the last part in a whispered hiss.

Sandor gave a rough chuckle, "So the _Faceless_ punk is talking to you again?"

"I don't want to get into it with you, but yes," Arya said, slamming her locker door shut, "I just explained how things really are between you and me."

"Explained how things…what did you tell him?" Sandor grasped her arm.

"Only the truth," she replied, a defiant look on her face.

Sandor glared down at her, fearing the worst.

"All of it?" _Even about Sansa?_

"All of it." Arya confirmed.

"Do you trust this guy?" Sandor demanded, his grip on Arya's arm tightening slightly, "I hope you understand the risk you're taking,"

"I trust him," the little bitch said, "So you'll just have to trust me,"

Sandor sneered, but he let go of her arm, "Just like you trust me?"

Neither of them had much choice in the matter.

"I'll be telling Gendry and Hot Pie, too," she said, "Just so you know,"

He'd already figured that out, "If any of this gets out to anyone else…if the Spyder hears –"

"No one will hear about it," Arya met his gaze, and in her grey eyes, he saw that she believed what she was saying, "They won't say anything."

Sandor sighed. He realized then, that unlike Arya, he had no one he needed explain his actions to. That's how he preferred it, he thought, not having anyone to answer to. But now he saw things a bit differently.

There was no one who cared to question his actions, or hear his explanation.

"Meet me in the hall outside the cafeteria at lunch," he barked, distracting himself from his suddenly darkening thoughts.

"Why?"

"And you call your sister stupid," he snapped, "Couples sit together,"

"But my friends –"

"Can do without your company for a few more days,"

"But I need to tell them –"

"So, tell them," he shrugged, "Then meet me in the hall outside the cafeteria at lunch."

She looked like she wanted to say something more, but he walked away before she could protest further. He had more than one reason for insisting on the little bitch's company.

The first reason was obviously to maintain their farcical pairing, and the second was because he had no desire to sit with Joffrey, Sansa and the rest of them. As far as he knew, Arya still wasn't speaking to Sansa either so there was no point having them sit together. Hanging around Arya for an hour seemed like less torture than having to put up with Joffrey, and enduring Sansa's painful presence.

All he had done the entire weekend was think about Sansa Stark. Straight after the game on Friday, he had gone home alone and hadn't emerged from his house except to run to the grocery store to stock up on junk food on Saturday. After that, the next time he'd left the house was to go to school.

The little bird was messing with his head…and she didn't even know she was doing it.

_And what the hell was I thinking? Pretend to date Arya? I am fucked in the head!_

He'd had a good few days to think about that decision now, as well as the conversation he'd had with Arya at the fast food joint that had preceded the unusually brash choice he'd made. It was unlike him to be so impulsive.

He rarely lost control. Even on the football field during the toughest of games he kept his cool, sticking to Coach Selmy's plays and using his judgment if a play wasn't going as planned.

His better judgment had gone awol in the aftermath of _the kiss_ incident. All of Arya's talk about Joffrey hurting Sansa had made him think only of making sure it didn't happen, and it didn't matter what he had to do.

The entire school was already talking about him and Arya, and Joffrey's amusement at his expense earlier that day had encouraged his decision. It was less hassle just to let people talk – that ball was already rolling.

Then there was the part where Sansa had looked at him with an expression of doubt on her face.  
"_You're really dating her?"_

She'd asked him, in a tone that suggested she was uncertain about him dating her sister, like he was…unsuitable. Mentally, he had agreed. He was unfit boyfriend material for any girl, let alone a girl named Stark. Dating was for other people, not him.

But the Stark girl he wanted didn't want him back…while another Stark girl had thrown herself at him. As far as the rest of the school population was concerned, Arya Starkwanted _him. _ Arya Stark had kissed him – that was a fact. No one had to know the reasons behind it. Least of all, Sansa.

He had an ego, like all guys, but his had taken a beating with Sansa's unwitting rejection of him, and the thought of Sansa knowing that Arya hadn't really wanted to kiss him just seemed too much to handle. He didn't need to add to his humiliation.

With that thought on his mind, he had decided that for her own good, as well as the good of his ego, that it would be best for Sansa to believe he was dating her sister. Sansa might not want him, but if it messed around with her head to think Arya did, then so be it.

Again, he concluded, the ball was already in motion and he couldn't think of anything that would undo what Arya had started. It was easier to let people believe it, regardless of how unsuitable he may be. He would just make the best of the bullshit thrown at him.

_All I have to do now is forget about her._

He'd heard the guys on the team talk about girls, girlfriends and breakups before, and he'd heard the various things they'd done to get over a girl or a bad breakup.

Most of the guys were outright liars, bragging about fucking their ex's friends and getting with impossibly hot, college girls. Others were more vindictive, posting compromising photos of their ex online or forwarding once-private emails and texts to their friends for the purposes of humiliating them publicly. Some punched walls in frustration, while others, like Joffrey, preferred inflicting actual physical and psychological pain.

A few guys, and Sandor was inclined to believe their reactions to be genuine, however emasculating it may be, broke down in tears in the locker room. _Pussies, _he'd labeled them.

He understood them, to an extent. His own experience in the relationship department was virtually non-existent. He'd slept with girls, yes. But he hadn't lied to Arya about them being the one-night-only type of girls.

He didn't date. End of story. So, while he could understand the desire to want to get revenge, get angry, to humiliate or even cry like a girl – none of the guys ever described feeling powerless.

What the hell was a guy supposed to do to get over a girl, who didn't even know how she was affecting him? This was all new ground to him…he was out of his depth, and he hated not being in control.

At lunch the little bitch, proving surprisingly obedient, was waiting for him like he'd told her to. With a nod of his head, she followed him into the cafeteria where he picked up a couple of burgers for him, and indicated for her to pick up whatever she wanted.

"You call that lunch?" he eyed her salad roll distastefully.

"You're not the one eating it," she replied dismissively, and paid for their food, "I've got it. You bought lunch the other day,"

Sandor carried the tray with their food on it and led her to a table under a tree, away from his usual group. The table happened to be occupied by a group of freshmen, but with a snarled, 'get lost' from him they vacated the bench quick enough.

"That was rude," Arya commented as she picked up the salad roll from the tray on the table between them.

He shrugged, then promptly ignored her for the next few minutes while he concentrated on his food. Arya kept shifting in her seat, conscious of the stares people were giving them, and from the corner of his eye, he could see that everyone at Joffrey and Sansa's table kept glancing at them too.

"This is total bullshit!" he hissed.

"It was your idea to sit together!" Arya hissed back.

"Just shut up and eat," Sandor glanced at the table on the other side of the quad that Arya and her friends normally sat at, finding it occupied by some juniors instead, "You told the Bull and Pie kid, yet?"

She shook her head, "I don't know where they are, and Gendry won't answer my call. Hot Pie said he'd talk to me before the Battle of The Bands competition this weekend, but he didn't really specify."

"I suppose you'll be going," he said, "Your _Faceless Men_ boyfriend is in the competition."

"I wanted to be there for Gendry, too…"

"You're going to have to decide between them, you know," he watched her carefully, to see if she got his meaning.

"They're both awesome musicians, it doesn't matter to me who wins,"

"It matters to them," Sandor tried again, "They can't both walk away with the prize. One of them has to lose."

"It's just an amateur band comp," Arya stated, "They can always try again next year,"

"For some, that might be too late," Sandor thought of himself, "Some may not get to try again."

She chewed on her food, and gave him a puzzled look.

"That was sort of…deep," she raised her brow.

"What? Did you think I was stupid, like the rest of them?"

"I did, yes," she replied bluntly.

"Bitch," Sandor snorted, but he did notice her response was in past tense, and there was no heat behind his insult.

He gave up hinting at The Bull's crush on her. Arya just wasn't getting it.

"Can I ask you something?" Arya scrunched up the paper that had held her lunch together and shot it into a nearby trash can, showing she had a good throwing arm.

"Like I could stop you," he replied.

"Why do you like her?"

Sandor flicked his grey eyes to hers, and noted that while her tone had been casual enough, her eyes told him he'd better give her a decent answer.

"Well?" she prompted, "_Why_ do you like my sister?"

Of all the things she could have asked him that was probably the question he was least prepared for. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he didn't know how to put it into words, let alone give an audible response. He wasn't sure he wanted to say it out aloud. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell it, of all people, to Arya.

"What makes you think I'll tell you?" he growled.

"You just will," she stated.

Sandor sighed.

Sansa had caught his interest from the moment he'd set eyes on her at the welcoming party the Baratheons had thrown for the Starks at The Red Keep. It wasn't just because she was pretty, either. Hanging around Joffrey, he'd seen plenty of good-looking girls during their acquaintance. He also never had a thing for redheads before meeting Sansa.

What had kept his eyes wandering back to her again and again that night was the ingenuousness that had clung about her, like a cloak about her pale, dainty shoulders. He wasn't just talking about her being a virgin, though that too had been obvious. She'd been too pure in her way of thinking, too naïve, that it hadn't seemed possible. Even if she had gone to an all-girl school, it was hard to believe she wasn't…more experienced. A girl like Sansa had no business being in Joffrey's circle of acquaintances.

At first, he'd thought she was just putting on the innocent act, but he'd kept watching her at school that first week, and he'd seen for himself that the only thing fake about Sansa Stark, was the face she wore pretending she was more sophisticated than she was.

He'd found her good manners irritating, especially when he could see that she sometimes wanted to object to the things Joffrey did or said, but kept silent. Or when she wanted to ask the girls to clarify something about a naughty topic of conversation, but she either didn't want to admit that she didn't know what they were talking about, or thought it improper to ask.

He'd gotten past that, however inadvertent it might have been, the night he'd told her the truth about his scars and his brother. Her chirping had annoyed him so badly, and her unwillingness to tell Joffrey off for groping her in public for fear of causing a scene had bugged him to the point that he'd very rudely, and abruptly, insulted her for being too _polite._

After that, though she was still polite to him, Sansa had become more forthcoming with her opinions and her questions. As though she knew he was listening, and possibly judging the truth of her words because he'd called her out for being phony.

That was when he'd started to get to know the real girl beneath the expensive clothes and perfect manners. He'd gotten to know Sansa, by listening to the conversations she had with other people. If Joffrey asked her opinion about something, he paid attention to her responses. If the cheerleaders talked about fashion and girly things…well, he didn't pay as much attention, but he still listened. Sometimes her answers were insightful, more often they proved how guileless she was.

She talked about her family and her experiences at The Mordane School for Girls. She talked about growing up in the North, and of her former home Winterfell Manor. Sansa had led a charmed, cosseted childhood, and in some things he envied her.

The last real family memory he had to speak of was from when he was six, before his mother and sister had died. He remembered a trip to the riverside and being told to keep watch on his three year old sister Leonor. He also remembered Gregor pulling him off the swing, but not much else about that day. His recollection of what family life was like before his mother and Leonor had died was hazy, and he wasn't sure how much of it was real and what was wishful thinking.

Berating himself for being a sentimental _pussy_, he would admit that Sansa reminded him that there was good in the world. And when Sansa had hooked up with Joffrey Baratheon, Sandor had found himself wanting to preserve the good in Sansa, not wanting her to be tainted or hurt by Joffrey's influence.

_Wonderful job you've done with that, you useless dog,_ he thought darkly,_ he has hurt her, and you did nothing. _

Then he'd taken to watching her even closer, and very quickly, the same traits he'd earlier mocked her for, became the things that attracted and drew him to her. No matter how many times he'd tried to tell himself that it was only physical, he'd fallen in _like_ with Sansa without him realizing it.

Then she'd actually been nice to him. He'd been alone with her all of three times, and in the brief moments they'd been together, she spoke _to_ him…not just _at_ him like most people. Even that night after he'd told her about his burns and he'd half scared her to death, she'd still reached out to him in the dark and touched his shoulder to console him…_console him_.

He'd had real, proper civilized conversations with her, too. The first time was when he had taken her to the _trattoria_ for her birthday, and again the afternoon they'd shared a pizza. Sansa had paid attention to him, _really_ paid attention to what he had to say. She seemed like she was genuinely interested in him, and for a time he'd felt like he was someone who mattered.

"With her, I don't have to be the Hound," Sandor heard himself saying, not looking at Arya, "With her, I'm just _me._"

It didn't matter if the little bitch understood him or not. That was all he was going to say about it. Sandor did not talk about his feelings with anyone, and it left him with a strange sensation in his gut to even admit what he had to Arya.

He shifted his gaze back to Arya, and found her looking at him quizzically.

"Don't ask me again," he rasped, "It won't change things, anyway. She was only being nice to me because I'm supposed to be Joffrey's friend."

He didn't bother disguising the bitterness in his voice, however.

"Why _are_ you friends with Joffrey?" she asked him, "You've never told me why."

"He's not my friend. I've told you before,"

"That's not an answer,"

He scowled, "Who else has use for an ugly, scarred thug like me?"

"Don't tell me the truth then," Arya scowled at him in return.

"That _is_ the truth," he barked, "Your problem if you don't want to believe it,"

She sighed, looking at him like he was hopeless

"I talked to Sansa," she said, "Or at least, I tried."

"What did you tell her?" Sandor was alarmed, "You'd better not have –"

"I didn't say anything about how you feel about her!" she quickly said, "I'm not dumb."

"Good. Keep it that way," he snarled at her. Sansa finding out was the last thing he wanted, "So, what did you say to her?"

Briefly, Arya told him about her attempts to speak to Sansa, and he shook his head when he learned Sansa now knew of him beating up Mycah Butcher. _Like she hasn't seen what you're capable of, she saw you fight your own brother, remember?_

"I spoke to her on Sunday as well, but I'm not sure she was really listening to me. I mean she was there in front of me while I talked, but she wasn't really responding. She wasn't even saying anything to defend Joffrey, which is what I thought she'd do."

"She didn't?"

"No," Arya shrugged, "But like I said, it could be because she was just watching my lips move, and not hearing a word I said."

"Silly, little bird,"

"Little bird?" Arya raised a brow.

Sandor shrugged, "You're _little bitch, _and she's _little bird_,"

Arya shook her head, clearly thinking him mad.

"Well, since we can't hope for Sansa dumping Joffrey anytime soon…I guess we can only hope that he breaks up with her first."

Sandor agreed, thinking that it couldn't happen soon enough.

* * *

**Gendry**

Gendry closed the browser as soon as he finished reading the paragraph about Arya, and wondered for the billionth time, _what the hell is she doing?_

Jaqen H'ghar one week, the Hound the next…now she was seeing Jaqen behind the Hound's back? This was hardly typical behavior he recognized from the awkward, unsophisticated girl he'd gotten to know during his first weeks at King's Landing Prep. This new Arya…well, he didn't get her at all.

He went to his homeroom class, and once he was seated, he allowed a pretty, black haired girl in the seat behind him to distract him with her questions about the competition that weekend.

"Are you nervous?" she asked him, and he remembers her name is Bella.

"Who wouldn't be?" he replied, trying to act casual, "But on the stage, you forget about that, and the rush from performing live doesn't compare to anything else,"

"Really?" she gave him a flirtatious smile, "You can't think of _anything_ else it would compare to?"

His jaw dropped a little when he caught her meaning. Bella laughed at the stunned expression on his face.

"Maybe we could go out some time...if you're interested," Bella leaned forward over her desk, giving Gendry an eyeful of cleavage, "I'm sure we could find things to do off the stage that would give you that same...rush,"

_Did she just...?_ Bella's smile had definitely turned suggestive.

"Aft..after the comp, maybe," he blurted, "I'll...I'll think about it."

"Good," she grinned at him and leaned back in her chair, "I'll be cheering for you this Saturday!"

He'd never received such a blatant come-on in his short dating life, and the fact it had been from a very pretty girl stroked his bruised ego. _Arya's not the only girl out there._ He was glad of the reminder, but it did not make him feel any better. It was still Arya that he wanted.

He dodged Bella on the way to his next class and caught up with Hot Pie at lunch. On the way to the cafeteria, he told his friend about Bella.

"And you didn't say, yes?" Hot Pie looked at him like he was crazy, "Why the hell didn't you take her up on her offer?"

"I don't know her, Hot Pie,"

"That's the whole point!" Hot Pie exclaimed, "You go out with her to get to know her...and it sounded like she wanted to get to know you _very _well."

"Shut up," Gendry shook his head with a laugh, remembering that Hot Pie knew nothing of his feelings for Arya, "If you want, I'll introduce you to her, and you can take her out,"

Hot Pie turned as red as the cherries on the cherry pies he liked to bake and proceeded to call him names under his breath.

At the entrance to the cafeteria, Gendry put a hand on Hot Pie's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He nodded towards the front of the cafeteria when Hot Pie looked at him.

Together, they watched Arya walk away with the Hound who was balancing a tray of food between his massive paws. Gendry had three missed calls from Arya…well, ignored calls actually. They weren't missed calls if one purposely didn't pick up.

Beside him, Hot Pie shook his head, "I spoke to her earlier, and I said I'd let her tell me her version of the story before the comp this weekend."

"Why?" Gendry wondered.

"Because," Hot Pie gave him a puzzled look, "I want to know,"

"You really think she'll tell the truth?"

"Why would she lie?" Hot Pie asked, "She's still our friend, and as her friends we should at least hear her out."

_Friend. _Gendry was coming to loathe that word, and Hot Pie saying it again was not making him any more willing to listen to Arya's explanation. All he would be hearing was one more reason why she wasn't with him.

He'd thrown himself into band rehearsals the whole weekend, much to Beric's glee. He and Edric had both slept at Beric's place on Friday and Saturday nights to keep their slightly crazed frontman from completely losing it. It had also kept Gendry's thoughts from dwelling on Arya overlong.

Beric had kept studying the list of the bands that were entered in the competition, and had obsessively hunted down clips of these bands on YouTube in an effort to determine which were actual threats. Other than the obvious threat of Jaqen H'ghar and _The Faceless Men_, there were another possible two that had sufficiently caused Beric to come down even harder on them during their rehearsals.

At one point, during a heated argument with Thoros, Allyria had come into the basement at just the right moment to distract Beric and take him outside for some air.

"Was he like this last year?" Gendry had asked Edric.

"Worse," Edric had replied, "Last year, we weren't as prepared and he knew it."

"So, why is he freaking out now?"

"A few reasons, I guess," Edric had shrugged, "The first being, Beric is Beric. Secondly, this is the second time we're entering and he remembers what last year was like. And lastly, you're a phenomenal musician Gendry, but you've only been playing with us a short time and really, the comp will be the first we'll have you on stage with us,"

"He doesn't have to worry about me," Gendry had stated adamantly, "I've been in front of crowds before,"

"Sure...but the Battle of The Bands isn't the same as some gig in a basement or warehouse somewhere,"

"I'm aware of that," Gendry wasn't about to start doubting himself or his abilities, "I can do this. I won't let him down."

"I know you won't,"

Both Gendry and Edric had turned around to see Beric return to the room in time to hear Gendry's words. Allyria had been behind him, and she'd given them a small nod to say Beric was okay again.

"Sorry for being such an ass these past few weeks, guys," Beric had said, running a hand through his already disheveled red-gold hair, "I know we'll do well, whatever happens."

After their frontman had chilled out, the rest of the weekend and rehearsals had been enjoyable. Beric was still insisting on rehearsals each afternoon after school until the competition, but whatever Allyria had said to him had made him rein in his maniacal need to fix and perfect everything.

Gendry and Hot Pie picked up some food and found their way to the performing arts block where Beric, Allyria and Edric always sat. Much to his dismay, the first question Allyria asked him was about Arya.

"What's this morning's post on the Spyder's site about?"

Gendry shrugged, "I honestly couldn't tell you,"

"He's refusing to speak to her," Hot Pie declared, "But personally, I really want to know what's going on."

"As we all do," Edric gave Gendry that look again, the one that kept hinting that the guy suspected he had feelings for Arya.

"It would be strange going to the comp without Arya," Allyria said, with the same look Edric was giving him, "Especially as we talked about it a lot, and she was there for your audition, too."

Gendry wondered just how obvious he was being about his crush on Arya, and whether Hot Pie knew, but just chose not to admit to it.

"Arya was the one that submitted his audition video, actually," Hot Pie added, "She did it without him knowing."

"So, without Arya, Gendry probably wouldn't be in the band," Beric stated.

They were ganging up on him, but even as his head formulated arguments against it, in his heart lay the real truth. He would hear Arya out. He would listen to what she had to say.

He sighed. _Soon, I'll speak to her soon._

* * *

**Arya**

Arya got her chance to speak with Hot Pie on Wednesday. He had texted her that morning and offered her a ride to school. She'd been surprised at the offer, but sure enough, he had been waiting for her in the driveway shortly after.

"Why did you change your mind?" she asked him once they were on the road.

"I'm not angry, now," Hot Pie shrugged, looking over at her quickly, "I know we haven't been friends long, but the stuff you've done these last couple of weeks are just really...weird, and I'm at the point where I just want to know what's going on."

"You're going to think I've lost my mind,"

"Too late for that," he smiled at her, "But I won't hold that against you, provided there's a good reason for why you've been acting so strange...and hooking up with that scary senior,"

Arya grimaced and took a breath. She may as well start there.

"About Sandor," she took a deeper breath, "I'm not really dating him. It's all an act."

Hot Pie shot her another look, "Oh, this is going to be good..."

"You've no idea," she laughed nervously, "Please promise me you won't repeat any of this to anybody."

"What about Gendry?"

"I'll tell him myself, if he'll let me," she said, "Please, Hot Pie. It's important that no one, not even my sister find out about any of this. Let's not mention what the Spyder would do if one drop of this get's out."

The seriousness in Arya's tone must have convinced him, because he swore and crossed his heart. Satisfied, Arya told him everything. Everything, except for what she'd been doing in Flea Bottom the night the Hound had rescued her_._ Gendry's past wasn't something she could discuss with anyone. Not until she'd spoken to him about it first.

When she finished speaking some minutes later, Hot Pie actually had to pull over on the side of the street to gape at her.

"If I'd heard that from anyone else, I don't think I'd believe it."

"So, you believe me?" Arya looked at him hopefully.

"I have to," he shrugged, "It's too unreal not to be true."

"Are you saying that I lack imagination?"

"I'm not saying that at all," Hot Pie quickly defended himself, but he looked glad to see the familiar, argumentative face of Arya again, "I'm just saying that I know of no other girl who could possibly get herself into so much shit and still have a plausible explanation for it all. Now, everything you've told me is completely whacked. But, you're saying that the Hound is in on this, and that guy is too freaking scary to second-guess...so, I believe you."

"You believe me because you're scared of the Hound?"

"It's a good reason," Hot Pie smiled, but Arya could see that he believed her words just as much, "But, this does change how I'll look at him, from now on."

"If I were you, I'd say nothing in front of him about any of it,"

"I wouldn't dare," Hot Pie agreed, then he started the car and pulled back onto the road again, "It's a shame about Mycah, though."

Arya felt a pang of regret again for the friend she'd known so briefly. He'd suffered because of her, and it wasn't just her who felt the loss of his company.

"I know," she agreed quietly, "I just hope he's doing okay,"

"I think he is," Hot Pie replied, "He's not on Facebook all that much, but he's at some boarding school out at the Vale. Eyrie Boys Academy, I think."

"I know that school," Arya said, "My father went there."

She was genuinely glad to hear that Mycah was doing okay. Maybe one day when he was ready, he'd speak to her again. She hoped he would, and she could ask him to forgive her.

"I'm assuming Jaqen knows the truth, too? You were with him at that pancake place on the weekend, right?" Hot Pie asked.

"Yes," she sighed anew, "I told him everything I told you."

"So, when things are _over_ with you and the Hound, are you going to date him for real?"

Arya was silent then, and it was a few moments before she gave him an answer.

"I want to. I think I do," she said, "But...I don't know,"

"I'll change the subject then," Hot Pie said, sensing that this was a sensitive topic, "When are you going to speak to Gendry, then?"

"When he lets me speak to him," she replied, though they'd really just moved from one sensitive topic to another, "He's the one ignoring me,"

It was Hot Pie's turn to sigh, "I'll have a word to him. You two need to make up before the competition this weekend. Gendry will never admit it, but I know it will mean a lot to him if you were there cheering for him."

"Yeah? It would mean a lot to me, too."

The day of the competition drew nearer, and while Hot Pie and even Beric, Allyria and Edric were happy to speak to her, it seemed Hot Pie hadn't been successful in convincing Gendry to do the same.

On the other hand, her situation with her sister had somewhat improved. They were speaking again, and their parents both mentioned to them that they were happy they had overcome whatever feud they'd been having the past few weeks. Conversation at breakfast and at the dinner table resumed as though they had never stopped, but there was a condition regarding their armistice.

They could converse about anything, but as soon as Arya opened her mouth to say anything that involved Joffrey or Sandor, Sansa would clam up. Their respective boyfriends were off-limits. Not that Arya was expecting to engage in girly-talk with Sansa. The thought sent shudders down her spine.

It came as a huge shock to her, when on Friday morning, Sansa raised the topic of Sandor voluntarily.

"Will Sandor be going with you to the Battle of The Bands this Saturday?"

Arya had blinked once, twice. _Shit! I hadn't thought about that!_

"Yes," she said, "He is."

"I guess we'll see you there, then."

"We? Are you and Joffrey going to be there?" Arya never saw her sister or Joffrey as rock concert going types.

"Yeah. Joffrey's uncle Renly, and some other friends will be as well."

"Oh," Arya hoped that Baelor's Arena was big enough so that she wouldn't have to run into them, "That's great. I'm sure you'll have fun."

Arya had ambushed Sandor at his locker as soon as she got to school.

"You're coming with me to the Battle of The Bands tomorrow," she stated, without preamble.

"The hell I am," he'd snorted, stacking textbooks messily into his locker.

"I already told Sansa you were coming. She and Joffrey and some others will be there."

"Why the fuck would you do that?" he turned to glare at her.

"I panicked!" she waved her hands in front of her aimlessly, "But I'll pay for your ticket, and as many hotdogs as you can eat!"

Sandor swore so foully Arya wondered that her ears hadn't started bleeding, "Little bitch...how the hell can you be so tiny, and be such a gigantic pain in the butt?"

She knew he meant that to be insulting, instead it made her think of Gendry who'd once had a similar sentiment, and that made her wistful.

"It's a talent I have," she said darkly, "Deal with it."

He just shook his head and slammed his locker, "Fine. But if you're coming to the game tonight, I want to hear you _cheering_ for me. Loudly."

She glared up at him, "You play dirty."

"So do you," he returned, and left her with a raspy chuckle.

At the game that night, with an amused Hot Pie in tow, Arya did indeed cheer for Sandor. The scarred motherfucker would probably use it against her later, she just knew it, but once again she had managed to drag him into something he wanted no part of. Cheering for her 'boyfriend' seemed like a small price to pay.

The _White Knights_ were playing _The Pirates _of Pyke Prep School, and while the match looked even at the start, it appeared the _White Knights_ would more than likely win. There was a lot of talk going on about the Championships coming up, and that Coach Selmy was taking extra steps to make sure that the varsity team was better prepared this year.

"That looks like it's causing you pain to do that," Hot Pie mused after Arya had once again screamed; _Go Sandor! Woohoo Hound! _

"Is it obvious?"

"To me it is," he laughed, "I can see your face when you do it! I hope you cheer for Gendry better than this."

Arya had glared at her friend, who only laughed louder, "I hope that burned fucker can hear me..._Go Sandor!_"

Further down the Home bleachers, Arya could see Sansa sitting with her friend Jeyne. Arya had thought about sitting with them earlier, but she figured she wouldn't be able to keep up the pretence of genuinely cheering for Sandor the whole game. Hot Pie thought the same, so they had sat separately.

_I make such a big deal out of this, but I'd rather be cheering for Sandor, rather than that blonde jerk Joffrey._

Hot Pie had been right when he'd said his view on the Hound would change with the knowledge he'd learned about the guy. Arya had to admit that her opinion...her entire behavior and general regard towards the guy had been evolving daily. The more time she spent in his company, the more she learned about him, and the more she came to believe that you really couldn't judge someone based on their looks.

Arya remembered the expression on Sandor's face when she'd asked him about why he liked Sansa. She hadn't really understood his answer at the time, but she had seen that he struggled to even get those words out.

"_With her, I don't have to be the Hound. With her, I'm just me._"

He'd spoken as though the Hound was separate to him, and while she didn't quite get the significance of it, she'd chosen to take his second statement literally.

Sandor could just be himself around Sansa. She could respect that.

"GO GET 'EM, HOUND!" she yelled again, genuinely.

* * *

**Gendry**

The day had come. The day of the competition had finally arrived, and Gendry had been awake way too early that morning.

"It starts at two," Ellen Mott repeated as she watched her teenage foster-son eat his breakfast, "At Baelor's Arena,"

"Yes, the details are on the tickets I left on the counter, and I gave Tobho the passes so you can get back stage." Gendry replied, knowing his foster-mom was feeling nervous for him.

"Do you really have to be there that early?"

Gendry nodded, "Beric wants to do a final sound-check,"

"Isn't that what you were doing last night?"

"Yes, but Beric has an in with someone on the organizing committee who's letting us go again, only we have to be there early,"

"Well, make sure you stay hydrated, and don't forget to eat," Ellen reminded him, "It sounds like you're going to need to keep your energy up if you want to make it through all three rounds."

"I will, don't worry." Gendry never failed to appreciate her concern for him.

When he reached The Hollow, the restaurant itself was still closed, but Edric let him in through a side entrance. As predicted, Beric was beside himself, and only Allyria's presence seemed to keep him calm.

"This is it, guys," he kept saying, "In just a few hours, we're going to be up on that stage."

"Chill out, man," Tom said to him, his girlfriend Jenny by his side, "We're more prepared than ever. We got this."

"Positive thinking," Beric nodded, "I like it."

Rolling his eyes, Gendry got into the back of the van Thoros had borrowed from someone, and with Beric and Allyria leading the way in a separate vehicle, they drove to Baelor's Arena.

Baelor's was actually a multi-purpose arena, with a massive domed roof that could be left open in good weather, and closed in inclement conditions. The weather predictions had been good, so the organizers intended on keeping the roof open that afternoon and evening.

The arena could seat 20,000 people, but Gendry figured the standing-room only section would hold close to the same volume of people. _That'd be one hell of a mosh pit!_

Gendry took his lead from Beric. He did what was asked of him, and kept out of Beric's way as much as possible. It was nearly eight o'clock in the morning, and by the time their sound-check was done, they had nothing left to do but wait it out. Allyria and Jenny, who'd been appointed make-up and wardrobe duties, agreed that it was too early for them to get in costume so had plenty of time to get comfortable in the dressing room the _Brotherhood Without Banners_ had been allocated.

It was while he was settling down for a long wait when he received a text message from Arya.

"Just wanted to wish you luck for today. I will be there in the crowd cheering for you, just so you know."

Sighing, and suddenly desperate to see her face, Gendry caved in.

"Beric," he called out to their frontman, who turned to him, "Can you speak to that organizer contact of yours about having some backstage passes ready for Arya at the gate?"

Beside Beric, Allyria and Edric smiled.

"Sure, no problem."

After another moment of hesitation, Gendry dialed Arya's number.

"Hi, Gendry," Arya had picked up on the second ring, "I didn't expect you to call me back,"

"Neither did I," he said, truthfully.

"How are you?" she asked him, "Are you nervous? Where are you?"

He smiled, despite himself. He missed her.

"I'm okay," he replied, "I'm not nervous yet, but I suspect I will be later, and we're already at our dressing room at the arena."

_You should be here, too._

"You guys have your own dressing room! That's so cool!" she exclaimed, "Like real rock-stars."

"I _am_ a rock-star," he stated, "Thank you for noticing,"

Arya laughed, "Of course you are!" And it was the sweetest sound in the world.

"Listen, Arya," he turned serious again, "If you can come here earlier, there's some backstage passes waiting for you at the gate. That is, if you'd like to talk."

A moment's pause on her side, and he knew he'd surprised her again, "Sure, I'll be there."

After he'd ended the call, Gendry soon found himself distracted by the arrival of the other bands they were up against.

Shortly after nine, the band calling themselves _Wildlings_ turned up to occupy the room next to theirs. The lead singer was a small, dark-haired, intense looking guy with a widow's peak and a mono-brow that called himself Rattleshirt. The rest of his band members went by the names Orell, Harma and Styr.

Next came a group of women going by the name _Spearwives_. They introduced themselves as Rowan, Holly, Willow, Frenya, Myrtle and Squirrel. Gendry found them nice enough to talk to, but he sensed they'd be formidable on stage.

Another girl band followed after them. Four young women showed up, dressed all in grey and black, and didn't even look or speak to anyone.

"_Silent Sisters_," Edric informed Gendry, "Punk rock is their style, but they've got a bit of an attitude problem."

The backstage area started to get louder with the arrival of _The Stone Crows, _led by a large hairy guy called Shagga Dolfsson. Then came a band called _The Black Ears,_ led by frontwoman Chella Cheksdotter, who was small, not very pretty, but fierce looking.

Everyone was slightly taken aback by the arrival of _The Undying_, who came in full stage costume. The lead singer was named Pyat Pree, and he was a pale guy who wore blue lipstick, and seemed to like lots of bling.

A group calling themselves _Brave Companions_ occupied the room across the hall, and the lead singer introduced himself as Vargo Hoat. He was a tall guy, gaunt and spoke with a lisp. His bandmates were called Qyburn, and Zollo.

One of the last to arrive was a band from the North as well. They were called _Rangers_, and they were all nice guys led by a guy called Eddison. Gendry shook hands with Grenn, Dywen and Bernarr, and it was one of them that commented about the absence of one last band.

"Anyone seen _The Faceless Men_?"

"Not yet," Someone else replied, "But they'll be here. Jaqen H'ghar is supposed to be the consummate performer. They won't be late."

Gendry clucked his tongue. He hoped they turned up. _The Faceless Men,_ as far as he was concerned, were their only real competition.

Hot Pie appeared backstage just after lunch, without Arya, and it was then Gendry realized who she was probably turning up with.

_Great, just great._

* * *

**Sansa**

She was waiting in the hall for Joffrey to come and pick her up so they could go to the Battle of The Bands together. They were supposed to be meeting Renly Baratheon and his friend Loras Tyrell beforehand for lunch, and she knew she was going to have to act like she was enjoying herself. Actually, it was good that Renly was going to be there. She liked Joffrey's uncle. He was funny, charismatic, and not to forget, he'd stayed behind at the riots with Joff's other uncle, Tyrion Lannister, to help Sandor who'd rescued her and the Stokeworth girl from the mob. It was a shame that Joffrey wasn't half the gentleman Renly was.

"He's not even half the man Tyrion Lannister is." Sansa muttered, then smiled to herself when she realized just what she'd said.

Tyrion Lannister was a dwarf, and she considered him a bigger and better man than Joffrey.

Over the week, Sansa had come to terms with knowing that Arya and Sandor were together. Over the week, she'd learned to keep a tight lid on her jealousy, and she'd even managed to hold conversations with her sister again.

There was no longer a reason for them not to speak to each other. Arya had forgiven the boy responsible for her friend's injuries. Something had also happened to change Arya's opinion of her, and her sister now saw her as a victim in need of saving from Joffrey. Arya it seemed, had forgiven her too for whatever part she might have played that resulted in Mycah Butcher being hurt.

Sansa had no other option but to pretend that the sight of her sister with Sandor did not hurt her. She'd had no choice but keep silent when her friends would giggle and point at Sandor and Arya. And she had no choice but to respond to her sister if she spoke to her.

She'd found, that as long as Arya did not bring up the topic of Joffrey or Sandor, she could manage conversation just fine. It was of keen importance to her that Arya never find out about her crush on Sandor.

When they were younger, she remembered with great clarity how she would show off in front of Arya...rub it in her face really, whenever she got given something that Arya sorely wanted. She remembered a visit they'd once made to their grandfather, Hoster Tully, when she was eight years old, Arya was seven and both of them had been begging to be allowed to ride the new pony their grandfather had bought for them. Somehow in the course of the day, Arya had been naughty and she'd been banned from riding the pony as punishment. Oh how Sansa had gloated about how much fun she'd had, and how sweet the pony was, and how sorry she was that Arya had missed out. Arya had been fuming, she remembered.

In the end, their parents had lifted the ban and Arya had been given permission to have her turn the following day, but the weather had turned bad for the rest of their stay, and Arya never did get to ride that pony.

Sansa would never forget the expression on her sister's face the day they had driven away from her grandfather's. Arya's little face had never been so glum, and Sansa had felt bad for the way she had behaved, though she'd never apologized for it. Their childhood was peppered with similar scenarios. All their lives, it had always been Arya who had been jealous of Sansa.

However, this was much bigger than some silly childhood, sibling-rivalry. While Sansa didn't believe that Arya had it in her to gloat, or rub her face in it, she just didn't think she could handle it if Arya were learn that for the first time, she had something that Sansa wanted.

She just couldn't handle it.

A car horn tooted outside, and she stood up with a sigh.

"Mother, I'm leaving now!" she called down the hall, and caught sight of Arya as she looked over the banister, "I guess I'll see you there."

"Sure," Arya said, "And if not, then have fun."

_Doubtful. _Sansa thought,_ highly doubtful._

"Who should I cheer for?" Sansa asked, "Gendry or Jaqen?"

"Both of them," Arya replied, "They both deserve to win."

"But only one of them can win,"

"Then the better one will win." her sister stated simply.

The car horn tooted again, impatiently, and Sansa hurried outside to greet Joffrey.

"You took your time coming out," he snapped, "You know I hate waiting."

"Sorry, Joffrey," she said automatically.

"Well, at least you look pretty," he remarked, giving her a once-over as she strapped herself into her seat, "We're going to be meeting some people today, so you should look pretty."

Sansa made no comment. She was going to a rock-concert, and she was wearing jeans and comfy flats. She wore a blue sweater over a fitted shirt that molded to her curves. She was told it was going to be a long night, so she'd wanted to be comfortable. The only attempt she'd made at looking pretty was taming her curls, and wearing smudge-proof mascara to bring out her eyes.

"Where are we meeting Renly and the others for lunch?" she asked, hoping to get Joffrey talking so she wouldn't have to.

"This place at Visenya's Hill, near the arena so we can take our time."

"Have you heard of any of the bands that will be in the competition today?"

"Some of them," Joffrey replied, then he proceeded to tell her exactly which bands and why he liked or didn't like them.

Sansa only had to utter the occasional 'oh, that's interesting' and 'why is that, Joffrey?' and the blonde kept right on talking. Much to her relief he never asked her for her opinion.

The restaurant he took her to was a posh one - Joffrey Baratheon only ate at the best places in the city, but whenever he was around, everything tasted like sawdust to Sansa. But she remembered Renly would be there, and in his company perhaps she might just be able to taste some of her meal.

Joffrey directed her into the restaurant with a firm hand on her hip, and she found herself wishing for the gentle fingertips at her back as Sandor had done on occasion. She bit her lip.

They were led to a table that was already occupied by six people, four young men, and two young women. Sansa recognized Renly and Loras, but not the others.

"Hey, Joffrey! Sansa!" Renly stood up to greet Sansa with a kiss on the cheek.

Sansa greeted him in kind, all the while feeling the interested stares of the people at the table.

"You both remember Loras Tyrell?" Renly turned to the handsome Quarterback, and Sansa indicated that she hadn't forgotten him, "I want you both to meet Loras's brothers, Willas and Garlan -" Sansa met two pairs of identical golden eyes, similar to that of Loras, set in slightly older but no less handsome faces, "Garlan's girlfriend, Leonette...and this is their younger sister, Margaery."

Sansa's blue eyes met the brown eyes of a very beautiful girl, who looked to be around Sansa's age. Margaery Tyrell was blessed with a glossy mane of softly curling brown hair, and a gloriously slim figure.

"So, you're Sansa Stark," Margaery regarded her with a smile on her lips, and Sansa got the distinct feeling that she was being sized up.

"I am," she held out her hand, "It's so nice to meet you,"

"Likewise," Margaery shook her hand, "I hope we'll be good friends, Sansa."

"Margaery will be transferring to King's Landing Prep shortly," Renly supplied, "Though I'm sure Sansa would be well aware that your fathers are now doing business together, but that's boring stuff...come on, sit down you two."

Sansa had heard something about a man called Mace Tyrell, and knew that if she hadn't been caught up in her own problems, she'd probably have paid more attention to the news or at least what her father might discuss with her mother. In any case, she was going to be catching up fast.

She found herself seated next to Willas Tyrell, and Joffrey sat across from her, next to Margaery. Joffrey quickly engaged Margaery in conversation and proceeded to ignore Sansa, which was fine by her, and it was with a tiny smile still playing on her lips that she found Willas watching her.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what you might be thinking about, that makes you smile so," he began, "Just in case it's much more amusing than any conversation I can hope to offer you!"

Sansa laughed, much to her surprise, and suddenly the odds of her actually tasting her meal that day just got better.

* * *

**Arya**

Despite her begging Sandor to pick her up earlier, the stubborn brute had still made her wait. Consequently, by the time they reached Baelor's Arena, she had only one hour to get backstage and speak to Gendry.

"Thanks a lot, asshole." she'd glared at Sandor as she flashed her ID to the guy at the gate who was collecting tickets.

"Arya Stark...I've got some passes here for you," the guy at the gate took out an envelope and handed it to her, "Your friends are already backstage, so when you get to the side door, flash your pass and tell them who you're after."

"I didn't want to come in the first place," Sandor grumbled as they walked through the gate.

"I fucking cheered for you last night!"

"I heard," he chuckled, "So did everyone else. Now you can't go back to heckling me, after that display!"

"Jerk,"

"You said something about buying me as many hotdogs as I wanted..." he ignored her, and looked towards the direction of the food stands.

"After," she barked, "Come with me first,"

With his grumbling, and her growling at him, they didn't notice the group of people heading their way until they were almost upon them.

"Oh, no." Arya heard herself say.

"Fuck," Sandor swore, and he immediately put a hand on her shoulder. Whether it was something a boyfriend did, or just to make sure she didn't bolt, Arya couldn't be sure.

"Well, who do we have here?" Joffrey said as he spotted them.

Arya could see Sansa in the rear of the group, talking with a guy with a walking stick. Arya looked again...yep, the good-looking guy who looked to be in college, was definitely carrying, and using a walking stick. She recognized Renly Baratheon, and the _Stags_ star Quarterback, but not the four others.

"Clegane! Arya!" Renly ended up taking control and making the introductions, while Arya grew impatient. She just wanted to get to Gendry.

Arya smiled at the Tyrell's, as she'd learned who they were, and gave them what she hoped was an apologetic smile.

"It was nice to meet you all, and I'm sure we'll meet again soon, but I've got to meet my friends backstage."

"Are you going to wish Gendry good luck?" Sansa asked her, unexpectedly.

"I am," Arya replied, "Did you want to come with us? I have one extra pass."

"Sure, I'll come," Sansa replied.

Both seemed surprised by her answer, but Arya could not now un-invite her.

"Are you sure, Sansa?" Renly asked her.

"It's no problem, I'll find you guys when we're done backstage."

"It's all right," Joffrey shrugged, "Let her go, she'll call if she can't find us."

The Tyrell's and Baratheon's waved as they walked away, and still to her great shock, Arya found herself handing a pass to her sister. _Why is she choosing to come with us?_

"Thanks for doing this for me, Arya," Sansa said as they resumed walking, at a much faster pace, "I always wanted to go back stage at a rock-concert!"

Sansa had never been a good liar, and Arya saw right through that one.

"You're welcome," Was all she ended up saying.

Sandor did nothing but stay a dutiful step behind Arya, and though she briefly wondered what was going through his mind at the sudden turn of events, she didn't have time to dwell on it.

The security guard at the door waved them through the door once he'd seen their passes, and someone else pointed them towards the dressing room being used by the _Brotherhood._

Gendry looked up as they entered the room, but he did well to cover his shock at seeing Sandor Clegane and Sansa with her.

Gendry was wearing black jeans and a red t-shirt that pulled taut across his muscular chest. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up, displaying his biceps and the stylized bull tattoo on his right arm that he was known for. Someone had styled his hair so that it defied gravity and spiked at unnatural angles.

She had always found him good-looking, but now she realized that Gendry was hot. _Really_ hot.

"Arya, you made it!" Gendry greeted her, just as the rest of his bandmates called out greetings of their own, and Arya waved at Hot Pie.

She pulled her eyes from Gendry and noted that the other members of the band were dressed similarly in red and black. Edric was even wearing black eye-liner, and Arya grinned at him when she noticed.

"We were starting to think you wouldn't make it," Allyria said to her.

"I had my doubts, too," Arya glared at Sandor for a second, "But here I am!"

She allowed herself some minutes to speak to Beric, Edric, Tom and Thoros, while Sansa spoke to Gendry, and Sandor stood there and just glared at everyone, ever the unsociable beast. When Arya looked at Gendry again, she could tell that he was losing patience quickly.

"Stay with my sister, would you?" she asked Sandor, "I won't be too long,"

She didn't wait for Sandor's response. Instead, she walked to Gendry and leaned into him, "Is there anywhere we can talk in private?"

He eyed her warily for a moment, "Sure, follow me."

Gendry ended up leading her to the end of the hallway, into an unused dressing room. Once he'd closed and locked the door, to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed, he turned to Arya with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I haven't got long, Arya," he said, "Start talking,"

"Okay, but firstly I just want to say that I do wish you luck today, whatever happens,"

"Thank you," he allowed his expression to soften a little bit.

Arya knew she wouldn't get another chance, so she took a breath and started speaking, "You're not going to be believe this, but what I'm about to tell you is the truth..."

For ten minutes straight, without pause, Arya spoke, much as she'd spoken to Hot Pie earlier in the week, and with a touch more urgency than when she had spoken to Jaqen. As in both times, she skipped the part where she went to Flea Bottom.

Gendry's expressions changed swiftly, and often the entire time she spoke, but he did not interrupt her, opting to listen completely, so when Arya finally finished speaking, she fully expected him to start asking questions.

He asked three questions.

"You're telling me that you're not really with the Hound?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," she repeated, "I'm not dating Sandor."

"And you're not with Jaqen H'ghar...at this moment?"

"No, I'm not with him, either." Arya confirmed.

Gendry had uncrossed his arms and had taken several steps towards her, close enough that Arya had to tilt her head to look up at him.

"Right now, you're single. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, Gendry," she replied, "I'm single. I'm not dating anyone right now."

She watched his blue eyes turn stormy, and as a frown drew his brows together. He seemed to be warring with himself, but in the end, his brows smoothed out, and his dark blue eyes bore into her own. He'd made a decision.

"Right. Arya," he took another step closer, "There's something I need to do..."

And then Arya found herself being caught up in a pair of muscular arms, Gendry's arms, and he was holding her against him with one hand on her back, while the other was under her chin tilting her face up to his.

His lips came down on hers, and the hand on her chin slipped behind her head. Her mouth parted to gasp her surprise, and Gendry took advantage of it, slipping his tongue between her lips.

Gendry was kissing her.

It was commanding. It was forceful. It was unexpected and confusing and nothing like she'd ever felt...and it was wonderful.

_This _is kissing. The thought came to Arya, just as Gendry's palm slid down her back, and she gave a little moan that Gendry answered with one of his own. The vibration his moan created against her lips seemed to travel from her mouth, down her spine and across every nerve-ending that she possessed. It was a sensation she couldn't describe with any semblance of coherence...tingly...buzzing...electric...need more...want more...how is he doing this?

Without her consciously knowing it it, both of her hands had stolen up to his chest and were now flattened against his heart, where she could feel it beating against her palm.

She could smell his cologne, and it was familiar and fresh. She'd missed his scent. She hadn't known it was possible to miss a person's scent, but she now knew she'd recognize Gendry even if she were blindfolded.

He tasted like berries, and she knew it was from the fizzy drink he'd been sipping earlier. She kissed him back, daring to move her tongue against his. Tasting him further, trying to find what he really tasted like under the berries. When she tasted him for true, she moaned again. He tasted of warmth and promise, of possibility and of something that was just of him. _Gendry._

One of her hands slipped to his shoulder, and she pulled herself closer to him, liking the friction her movement created. She didn't wonder why he was kissing her, or why it was something he needed to do. She just wondered why he hadn't done it sooner.

And then he was pulling his head back, when what she wanted was more, he was ending the kiss. Her eyes were huge when she looked up to meet his eyes, and she noticed that the frown was back between his brows.

"Gendry?" she didn't know what she wanted to ask him.

_What does this mean? Why did you kiss me? Why did you stop? Why are you looking at me like that?_

"I've got to go, Arya," he replied, his voice calm, "They're calling for the performers to get back to their dressing rooms,"

In the background, Arya became aware of an electronic bell tolling in the hall.

"Oh. Okay,"

Gendry released her, and Arya became aware of how unsteady she was, while his eyes never left her face, "I think, we both still have a lot to talk about."

All she could do was nod.

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa and Sandor were standing in the hallway, opting to wait for Arya outside of the increasingly crowded dressing room when the bell calling all performers to return to their dressing rooms began to ring.

"I guess that means they'll be starting soon," Sansa said, glancing up at her silent companion.

She wondered yet again, what had possessed her to accept Arya's offer to come backstage? It wasn't as though she'd been having a horrible time with Renly and the Tyrells..._Who are you kidding? You were being humiliated in front of everyone._

Sansa had been starting to enjoy herself, but that all changed the moment Joffrey had started to openly flirt with Margaery Tyrell. She didn't care about him flirting with the pretty girl, who it turned out, was a junior like him, except he was blatantly doing so in front of her and in front of Margaery's brothers. This showed an utter disrespect for Sansa, which she was rather prepared for, but also a lack of respect for Margaery.

Renly had even tried to tell him, tactfully, to cool it, but the hint had gone over Joffrey's head. Things had gotten awkward very quickly, and it had seemed fortuitous at the time, that Arya should present Sansa with a way out.

"Yeah," Sandor nodded, "We'd probably need to clear out of here. Get you back to Joffrey's side, too."

"What do you think they're talking about?" Sansa changed the subject and indicated the closed dressing room door where Arya and Gendry were still confined to.

"Me," Sandor rasped, and elaborated when Sansa gave him a questioning look, "Arya told you what happened to her ginger-haired friend? Well Gendry doesn't know. She's in there telling him about why I did what I did to their friend."

Sansa's eyes went round at the flippant way he responded, "Aren't you worried about how Gendry'll react?"

_Don't you know that Gendry has a crush on Arya?_

Sandor gave her a look, puzzled by her reaction, "I think I can handle him,"

She turned back towards the closed door, wondering how this revelation would affect Arya's relationship with Gendry. She was still watching the door when it suddenly opened, and Arya stepped out, directly followed by Gendry.

On first glance, Arya looked okay, but Sansa knew her well enough to see that her eyes were huge, and that something had clearly shaken her.

Sandor made a noise beside her, "Things just keep getting better,"

Four young men were making their way towards them from the opposite end of the hallway. One of them was clearly Jaqen H'ghar. His scarlet and platinum streaked hair made him impossible to be taken for anyone else.

With some alarm, Sansa realized what was happening and looked to Arya. Her sister's face had gone ashen. Sansa hastily glanced at the faces of Sandor, Gendry and Jaqen and noted that their expressions had turned deceptively calm.

They came together in the middle of the hallway, and Jaqen quietly urged his band mates to go on ahead of him.

"Good to see you again, lovely girl," Jaqen addressed Arya first, before nodding curtly to Sandor and Gendry in turn, "Hound, and The Bull."

The Bull said nothing, choosing just to nod.

"You're Jaqen," the Hound grunted in acknowledgement, "Arya never introduced us that night,"

"No, she did not," Jaqen agreed, and a wary look passed between them, before Jaqen fixed his gaze on Sansa.

Arya found her tongue at that moment, "Jaqen, this is my sister. Sansa, this is Jaqen."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sansa," Jaqen said.

"Likewise," Sansa returned, and noted how he was glancing between herself and Sandor, with a curious expression playing about his eyes and mouth.

Jaqen turned his attention back to Gendry, "I wish you good luck, Gendry,"

"You can keep it," Gendry returned, "But, thanks anyway."

"Your confidence is admirable," Jaqen smiled at a now scowling Gendry, "May it serve you well today."

Tension filled the hallway, and it had nothing to do with the people milling about them, or the nervous aura being given off by the other performers.

Sansa glanced between Jaqen and Gendry and noticed that both had taken to ignoring Sandor. Gendry and Jaqen were now staring each other down. Sansa wasn't sure what was happening, but understood that the situation could turn volatile at any moment if someone didn't do something soon.

Arya was now standing between her best friend and her ex-boyfriend or whatever he was, her eyes darting between them nervously. Then she glanced at Sandor, and at Sansa briefly, before she looked pleadingly up at her boyfriend.

"Sandor, could you please take Sansa out of here?" she asked him, seemingly unwilling to step away from between Gendry and Jaqen, "Take her back to Joffrey and Renly."

"You sure?" Sandor was eyeing the two guys on either side of Arya just as warily.

"Yes," she nodded, "I can handle this. I'll meet you out there soon."

Now even more confused, Sansa felt Sandor's fingertips at her back as he led her out back towards the audience seating area.

"What's going on?" she asked him, "Why did you just leave her with those two?"

"There's a disagreement between Jaqen and Gendry that's been going on before I came into the picture," Sandor growled, "That had nothing to do with me,"

"And you think letting Arya handle it is a good idea?"

"The little bi...Arya is the only one that can," Sandor growled.

"You just do what she tells you to do?"

"I didn't particularly want to stick around that hallway. Did you?" he held another door open for her, "And your sister's bossy."

Sansa couldn't help but laugh, and he chuckled with her. Their laughs turned into sounds of disbelief when they saw how crowded the arena had gotten in the short time they'd been backstage.

"Where did all these people come from?" Sansa asked.

The arena had already been crowded when she had first arrived, but the volume seemed to have trebled and now all the designated seating areas in the stands were all occupied, and the standing-room only area was nearing full capacity.

"This is crazy," Sandor noted, "You'd think this was a concert for someone famous, not an amateur band comp."

Sansa agreed. She'd had no idea it was going to get this big, and she wondered briefly if Gendry knew the size of the crowd they'd be performing for. He might be confident, but she wished him luck just the same.

"How the hell are we going to find Renly and the rest in this craziness?" she asked, refusing to say Joffrey's name.

Sandor used his height to his advantage and shortly, he pointed to a spot all the way on the other side of the hundreds deep crowd.

"Over there?" Sansa was dismayed, as the prospect of shoving and fighting their way through the pack of bodies was too reminiscent of being caught in the mob riot...it was too awful to think about.

Sandor must have noticed the expression of horror on her face, and he sighed.

"We don't have to join them," he said, "We can find a place to watch around here."

"How will Arya find us?"

"I'll text her when we find a spot."

Finding a spot turned out to be harder than they'd first thought as security forbade them from going past certain points, and as other audience members became possessive of their 'spot'. In the end, Sandor had resorted to using his size and intimidation to clear a two-square foot space for himself and Sansa against the railing that separated the standing-room from the seated areas. They were also further to the side than they'd wanted to be, but at least they had a good view of the giant screens suspended above the stage.

Sansa watched as Sandor took out his cell phone, but a message came through for him first. The burned corner of his mouth twitched.

"Arya's staying backstage," he grunted.

"What? Why? All afternoon? What about tonight?"

"She's keeping the peace, I guess. She told me to go home if I didn't want to stick around," Sandor continued.

"And you don't want to?" she asked him.

He shrugged and looked away, "I can take it or leave it,"

"You didn't want to come in the first place, did you?"

"No,"

"Stay with me," Sansa heard herself say, and Sandor glanced at her sharply, "Please?"

_Oh, God...What am I doing?_

"Please, Sandor?"

They'd played out this scenario before. It wasn't the first time she'd begged him to stay with her.

The first time she'd been lonely and he'd been there when no one else was. Now, she was begging him because she _wanted_ his company.

"Not keen to hang around the Tyrells?" he frowned.

"It's not the Tyrells," she huffed, "It's Joffrey!"

Sansa covered her mouth as soon as she realized what she'd said, but it was too late. Sandor had heard, and he was giving her a curious stare.

"What's he done?" he rasped.

"He's been flirting with Margaery all afternoon and, I was getting sick of it," Sansa said truthfully, "I...I didn't want to cause a scene,"

"So you ran away," Sandor wasn't judging her, just stating fact.

There was an odd look on his face. He didn't pity her. It was more like regret. Perhaps he'd seen this happen before. He had known Joffrey longer, and she was kidding herself if she believed she was the only girl Joffrey had treated abominably.

It was too late for regret, in her case, but she didn't need to tell Sandor she really didn't care that Joffrey was flirting with another girl.

"I'll stay," Sandor grunted.

"Thank you," Sansa smiled at him, and promptly pushed from her mind the thought that he was staying because he felt sorry for her after all, or the nagging thought he was doing it for Arya.

Tonight, she was going to pretend that he was here for her alone.

_You're only setting yourself up for pain!_ A voice in her head screamed at her. _I know, and I don't care. He's here, and I just need to be near him!_

The random rock music that had been blaring over the speakers came to a stop, and a loud and excited voice announced that the competition was about to start. The voice went on to explain that there would be ten bands competing that day. Each band had been asked to prepare three original songs. Ten bands would play in the first round, six bands would go through to play another around, and finally the top three bands as voted by the industry reps present that day would battle it out for the top prize.

The winner of the grand prize would be chosen by Emun Marillion of _Marillion Records_, himself_._ The label sponsoring the competition, and who would be giving the winning band a recording contract. The voice went on the describe how last year's winners were currently touring Asia.

The first band to come on stage were the _Silent Sisters,_ who stunned the crowd by walking on stage garbed in head-to-toe grey robes and their faces covered by deep hoods. Once behind their instruments, the four young women threw off their robes to a flash of blinding lights, a scream of guitars and bursts of smoke, revealing costumes of tight leather and chains, elaborate makeup and structured hairstyles.

Sansa had not expected theatrics, and she cheered along with the crowd. The _Silent Sisters_ were good, in Sansa's opinion, but their music was not to her taste. She suspected that most of the music that night would not be her style, so she figured it would have to be an awesome band that would get her to change her mind.

She stood up straight when _The Faceless Men _took to the stage. She'd heard them before and she knew they were good. They had various sounds and she wondered which they would display. Jaqen and his band mates were dressed in black and white, and when Jaqen appeared behind the microphone, the audience broke into a deafening roar.

She stole a quick glance at Sandor, he did not look impressed with Arya's ex (or whatever he was), but she did see him nod in approval after he'd heard them play. She noted that the song had a classic-rock feel to it, more in line with his taste in music.

The _Brotherhood Without Banners_ were the last on stage, and by this time Sansa had grown particularly nervous for Gendry. She wondered if Arya was somewhere in the wings, watching them and biting her nails.

The spotlight flicked on, and all five members of the band were already on stage, with Gendry standing to Beric's right. Gendry waved to the crowd, and this brought on a wail of screams from teenage girls. One of them being Sansa.

"Hi, everyone," Beric smiled to the crowd, "This song is called _Seven Deaths_!"

Edric counted them, and after that all Sansa remembered was screaming along with everyone else. Sandor gave her a look at one point, but she ignored him, and joined the chant that had suddenly started.

"BWB! BWB!"

She did not stop screaming until they had left the stage.

"You're going to lose your voice, you know," Sandor commented, "Especially if they make it into the final round."

There was a forty-five minute break where the judges deliberated which six would go into the next round. Sansa and Sandor used the break to grab light snacks, and tried to find another vantage point. While they'd bought food, some other people had stolen their spot.

They ended up further down the same side of the arena, still against the barrier, but with worse views than they had earlier. By now it was early evening and the floodlights had come on with the fading light. Neither said a lot, mostly because Sansa didn't know what to discuss with him, so the brief exchanges they had were mostly to do with the bands they'd just seen and speculation on who would get through.

About twenty minutes before the start of the next round, an announcer came on stage to call out the names of the six bands going through to round two.

"The six , in no particular order are..._The Stone Crows, Silent Sisters, Rangers, Brave Companions, The Faceless Men..._and _Brotherhood Without Banners_!"

Round two began with the _Brave Companions_, and again Sansa was impressed by the theatrics when one of the guys came out dressed as a court jester - Jester Shagwell, he was called.

"Oh, damn...I can't see!" Sansa wailed when someone a few feet ahead of her stepped into her line of vision.

"Can you see the screen?" Sandor asked, "I can see just fine."

"Because you're a hundred feet tall," she rolled her eyes, "All I can see is the back of that guy's head,"

With a frown, Sandor eyed the offending person in question, but seemed to decide against forcibly removing him. Instead, he looked behind them and eyed the metal railing. The railing was only several inches thick, but it was solid.

"If you stand on the railing, you'll get a better view than me," he said, he looked around them, and noted that several people had done just that, "They've got the right idea. Come on,"

"I'll slip and fall!" Sansa protested, even as Sandor circled his hands around her waist.

"I won't let you won't fall," he rasped.

The next thing she knew, she was standing about two and half feet off the ground, balancing on a metal beam no more than three inches wide.

"Sandor, I don't know about this!" Sansa said, grabbing onto his shoulder.

"For a little bird, you really are afraid of heights, aren't you?" he was openly laughing at her, "You're hardly off the ground, Sansa."

"Stop laughing at me!"

He ignored her and moved to stand directly in front of her, before turning back to face the stage.

"Grab onto my shoulders," he said, craning his neck to look at her, "Lean into me if you need to."

She did as he instructed, clinging tight to his shoulders, and leaning into him to keep her balance. He supported her weight with ease.

"Better?" he asked, shouting over the music.

Sansa bent her head so that her mouth was next to his good ear, "Much better, thank you."

She felt him jump, as though her action had been unexpected, and the small movement of his shoulders under her palms suddenly made her realize just how familiar they were acting with each other.

She'd been much closer to him than this, she recalled. She'd clung to him after the riots. He'd tucked her under his arm, and she'd hid her face in his chest. _You can't go through something like that and not be familiar with each other._

Somewhere on the stage in front of them, the lead singer for _The Stone Crows_ was wearing a Viking style helmet on his head, complete with horns, and while Sansa saw them, she no longer heard what was going on around her.

Her focus was now centered on the solid bulk of Sandor's shoulders under her hands, and the feel of the fabric of the black sweater her wore. She could feel the heat of his back against her chest and abdomen, and she caught faint hints of his cologne. Staring at the back of his head, she noticed that he'd had his black hair cut at some point, though he still favored wearing a longer style. She guessed that the top of Sandor's head was not something most people got to see. He really was so very tall.

She moved her right hand slightly, and she caught a few strands of his hair between her fingers.

_You'd better know what you're playing at._ Said that voice in her head, even as she ever so carefully ran the black strands through her fingers, hoping that he didn't notice.

_I'm not doing anything wrong._

The _Rangers _took the stage, but like before, she saw them, but she didn't hear them. By this stage, she was wondering if Sandor would notice if she moved her hands further down his shoulders.

"Who do you think is going to win?" Sandor suddenly spoke, and startled, Sansa felt herself falling backwards, losing her balance.

Sandor's fingers were swiftly around her wrists, and he pulled her forward so that her hands were now flat against his chest, and her left cheek was pressed against his right. His good cheek.

"Didn't I tell you to hold on?" Sandor growled.

"You startled me," she said into his ear, feeling her heart beating rapidly in her chest, and her knees locking.

"Do you want to get down?" he asked.

"No," she said, almost too quickly, "I'm fine."

"I told you I wouldn't let you fall," he reminded her, "But you still need to hold on,"

He turned back towards the stage, but he didn't let go of her wrists immediately. Instead, he shifted her hands so that her arms crossed over his chest, and she was left with little option but to rest her chin on his shoulder. He probably meant for her to move back to her former position once she'd regained her balance, but Sansa had no intention of doing so.

This position brought her into closer contact with him, and this suited her fine. From this angle, she could study the line of his neck, and she studied to her heart's content. She was embracing him, essentially, and she didn't want to question why he was letting her. She focused on the fact that he was in her arms, and she would take advantage of it.

Slowly, she splayed her fingers over his chest, and she imagined that she heard him take in a sharp breath...but of course, she was imagining it, she thought. She sighed. Her touch wouldn't have any effect on him. By the time the _Silent Sisters_ came onto the stage, Sansa had progressed to drawing lazy circles on Sandor's chest. He didn't say anything, and neither did he stop her.

There was a spot at the base of his neck that her eyes kept drifting back to, and she soon found herself wondering what that patch of skin would feel like under her lips. _I bet it's warm_, _and it'll be firm yet soft at the same time._

It proved too tempting.

Without another thought, Sansa slowly bent her head and pressed her lips to the spot at the base of Sandor's neck where it met his shoulder. To her satisfaction, she found that it was just as warm as she imagined, firm and soft at the same time, and with a little flick of her tongue, she found that she liked the taste of his skin.

She heard him groan then, and for a moment his head had tilted back into her shoulder. For a moment, he had leaned into her arms. For a moment she had stripped the feared Hound of his armor, and she glimpsed the vulnerable young man underneath.

Then Sandor's eyes had opened, and he'd stiffened in her arms shortly before he'd pulled away. Sansa dropped to the ground without him to support her, but he'd caught her before she could fall and hurt herself.

"Sansa?" Sandor's fingers were digging into her arms.

_What have I done?_

"I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

"No!" he said gruffly, "Don't apologize."

She looked up at him, bewildered by his reaction to her, and embarrassed at her behavior. She hoped he could see that she was sorry for putting him in an awkward position, but when her blue eyes met his grey, she could see her confusion reflected in his eyes.

* * *

**A/N **

**Shagga Dolfsson (Shagga son of Dolf) and Chella Cheyksdotter (Chella daughter of Cheyk) were given Swedish Patronymic surnames...just to keep that same kind of flavour, not sure if it worked :)**

**Also - we never saw the end of the Battle of the Bands...so that's what chap 16 will cover, and what happened to Arya/ Gendry/ Jaqen after Arya stayed backstage.**

**This story just get bigger and bigger...so, we met the Tyrells...so more of them too!**


	16. Episode 16 Playing With Fire

**Merry Christmas everyone!**

**I finally finished this chapter - Gendry's POV was completed at 48,000 feet in the air btw...**

**First of all, I have to say thank you to a few people - Heliotropa, Ohsandor and karlybing over on Tumblr for the FREAKIN' AWESOME FANART they've done for Gossip Spyder, and also to the lovely xxxidrilxxx (also on Tumblr) for her Gossip Spyder trailer video - Ladies, you are FANTABULOUS!**

**The**** links for the above can be found in my profile!**

* * *

**Episode 16**

"**Playing With Fire"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Hey peeps!

Just an update on the Battle of The Bands – It's now coming to the end of Heat 2, and by what we've seen of the performances this afternoon, the judges will have it tough deciding which of these awesome bands will go on to the Final Round!

I'm posting direct from Baelor's Arena this evening, and I can tell you that the energy here tonight is electric!

Just about anyone who is anyone is here! I spotted both of the Stark sisters earlier, as well as Joffrey and Renly Baratheon…_and_ all three of the Tyrell brothers - Willas, Garlan and Loras, along with sister Margaery, are here too!

I can now reveal that the mansion I mentioned in a previous post, _La Maison des Fleurs_, has been rented out to Mace Tyrell and family. A friend of a friend from Highgarden Prep has also heard tell of a rumor that Margaery Tyrell, star cheerleader for the school squad, will be transferring to King's Landing Prep!

Exciting times ahead peeps!

Now, back to the Battle of The Bands! My next update will be to tell you who's won!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Arya**

"I've got to go, Arya," Gendry said, "They're calling for the performers to get back to their dressing rooms,"

Arya heard the muted _ding ding _of an electronic bell from beyond the closed doors.

"Oh. Okay,"

Gendry broke the embrace he'd been holding her in, and Arya struggled with her balance a moment while he kept watching her.

"I think, we both still have a lot to talk about."

Arya nodded, unable to find appropriate words with which to respond.

"I've confused you, and you probably have stuff you want to ask me," Gendry stated, taking in the expression on her face. "I didn't mean to just come at you like that. But, I like you, Arya...and I thought you should know."

She knew that, now. After the way he had kissed her, there was no denying it.

"Gendry..." Arya felt that she should be saying something. What had just happened would change things between them. Even now, being in the same room with him felt...different.

"We can talk after," Gendry started towards the door and glanced at her sheepishly, "My timing could have been better..."

Arya's shoulder brushed his chest as she walked through the door that he held open for her, and again she couldn't help but notice his scent. Goosepimples prickled her arms at the slight contact.

She saw Sansa and Sandor waiting in the hallway outside of the _Brotherhood's_ dressing room, and Arya noticed that her sister was observing her quite intently. _Can she tell? Will anyone be able to tell?_ She glanced at Sandor's face just in case, but all she could see in his expression was a mild curiosity.

It was when she glanced past his elbow and saw who was coming down the hall towards them that she felt all the blood drain from her face. Jaqen was almost upon them, with the other members of _The Faceless Men _close behind. His eyes were fixed on her, and that half-smile was playing across his mouth...until he caught sight of Gendry behind her...and Sandor.

Jaqen said something to his band, and they headed down the hallway with a curious look at the group assembled there. All of them nodded at Arya as they passed her. Jaqen came to a stop before Sandor and her sister, at the same time as Arya and Gendry.

"Good to see you again, lovely girl," Jaqen greeted Arya, before nodding at Sandor and Gendry, "Hound, and The Bull."

Gendry only nodded back.

"You're Jaqen," Sandor rasped, "Arya never introduced us that night,"

"No, she did not,"

Arya watched as her pretend-boyfriend and her almost-boyfriend conversed in nothing but facial expressions and wary glances. Each knew the truth about the other, and Arya wondered what they would make of each other. Some kind of understanding seemed to pass between them, as Jaqen turned to watching her sister and Sandor curiously.

She belatedly remembered to introduce them, "Jaqen, this is my sister. Sansa, this is Jaqen."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sansa," Jaqen acknowledged her sister.

"Likewise," Sansa replied politely, her own eyes glancing to Sandor.

Then Jaqen turned to Gendry, his expression unreadable. "I wish you good luck, Gendry,"

"You can keep it," Gendry moved behind her, and Arya became conscious of the tension radiating from him. "But, thanks anyway."

"Your confidence is admirable," the half-smile was back on Jaqen's lips, "May it serve you well today."

The air suddenly felt heavy around them, almost threatening, and Arya looked between Gendry and Jaqen. _Can he tell? _She wondered. _Would he be able to look at me and know? What if he can? What do I say? What do I tell him? What am I going to do?_

Understanding dawned on her, and she found herself stepping between them, hoping that neither of them would say nor do, anything stupid. _They both like me_, she realized in bewilderment. _They both like me, and I think that both of them know it._

Arya then stumbled upon a discomfiting thought, and she had to take several breaths as she found herself almost too afraid to admit that...she liked both of them, too.

_How did this happen?_

Jaqen had piqued her curiosity from the moment she'd met him. There was something about the guy that she couldn't adequately describe. He was open and yet secretive, cool in demeanor and yet he exuded heat and passion. He was opposites and contradictions, black and white, and so intense she still wondered what a girl like her, so uncertain and awkward, could offer a guy who seemed so self-assured. The reasons he had told her about why he liked her still blew her away.

Gendry was proving to be just as much of an enigma, she thought. She had come to comprehend that she hardly knew him. The things she had learned about him proved she'd barely began to breach the barrier he'd built around himself. She still didn't know why he kept so much of his past a secret. Yet she knew that he preferred Coca Cola over Pepsi, and that he took his foster-sister on walks to the park whenever he could. He was generous, caring and thoughtful. She knew that his temper was just as quick as hers, but he usually gave in to her, and that though she called him stupid, he was actually far from it.

He was a regular guy, and she liked him that way.

He'd kissed her once before, innocently, on her birthday. She thought she'd felt something then, but _that kiss_ moments before…she couldn't deny it. She was definitely attracted to him.

Arya caught Sandor's eye, and she was reminded of something he'd earlier said to her.

"_You're going to have to decide between them, you know," _

_"They're both awesome musicians, it doesn't matter to me who wins,"_

_"It matters to them. They can't both walk away with the prize. One of them has to lose."_

Sandor hadn't been referring to the competition. Somehow, and she didn't know _how_, the big brute had known that Gendry had feelings for her too.

"Sandor, could you please take Sansa out of here?" she needed to calm Gendry and Jaqen down, "Take her back to Joffrey and Renly."

"You sure?" Sandor did not look happy with her instruction.

"Yes," she said calmly, "I can handle this. I'll meet you out there soon."

He gave her one last quick look, before doing as she'd asked her and leading Sansa down the hall.

Arya again focused her attention on Gendry and Jaqen, who were both still glaring at each other over her head.

"Guys," she began, raising her arms and placing a hand on each of their chests as though to push them apart, "I think you should go to your dressing rooms now, the competition's about to begin."

Jaqen dropped his eyes to look at her, and Arya's cheeks warmed when she saw his gaze lower to her mouth, and as she felt him studying the way she bit her lips. She had the distinct feeling that he _knew_ something had happened between her and Gendry.

"You're right," he said, "The Bull seems confident, but I wouldn't say no to some words of encouragement. Would you have a minute to talk with me, lovely girl?"

_Yeah...he knows._ Arya decided from the tone of Jaqen's voice, and she quickly looked at Gendry. His expression was carefully neutral, but the tightness about his lips told her just what he thought of Jaqen's request.

Gendry met her eyes. "Your decision, Arya."

And she knew just what he meant. Arya chewed on the inside of her mouth, knowing she had nothing to feel guilty about, yet feeling guilty about _something_ all the same. Gendry kissing her did not make her his girlfriend, and she could speak to Jaqen if she wanted. _I don't have to make up my mind right at this moment,_ she thought, but something tightened in her chest. There was an uncomfortable weight suddenly on her shoulders, knowing that this time her decision would mean consciously choosing to hurt one of them.

_Not today, God of Heartbreak._

She gave Gendry a please-understand-I-have-to-do-this kind of look, "I'll stay backstage. I'll be back in a moment."

He gave her a terse nod, "Do what you need to do."

She watched him disappear inside his dressing room, before she turned to Jaqen whose smile had softened somewhat, now that Gendry had gone.

"Come on, Arya," he held out his hand to her, "I want to introduce you to the guys before the competition starts."

With her hand faintly trembling, she took his hand and followed him down the hallway.

* * *

**Jaqen**

_The Bull has made his move, at last._ Jaqen thought, his fingers tightening around Arya's as he led her towards the dressing room allocated to his band.

Her already large eyes had been wide and glazed, and her lips were swollen when he'd first seen her. He knew the look of a girl who'd just been kissed. It was a look he knew the look well, having kissed his fair share of girls.

It hadn't really come as a surprise to him. He'd suspected that Gendry Water's feelings for Arya had not been as platonic as she'd made it seem. She might have been blind to it, but one only had to see the way Gendry looked at Arya to know how the guy felt about her.

"I gather you have told Gendry the truth about you and the Hound?" Jaqen asked her.

"Yes...just before you arrived," she replied.

It made sense that Gendry had moved so quickly, Jaqen thought as he held the dressing room door open for Arya. She brushed past him, and he caught the scent of a man's cologne on her. He resisted the urge to growl.

The guys looked up at their entrance, and Jaqen made the introductions his friends had been waiting for.

"We were wondering if we were ever going to meet you," Izembaro said, smiling at her.

"You're the girl behind these songs Jaqen has been writing," Ky stated.

"Songs?" Arya asked with some surprise, "There's more than one?"

"An embarrassing number of them!"Ky wiggled his brows.

Arya began to blush, "Really? I hope they're not all about me keeping him waiting, like _In Your Hands._"

Jaqen's friends laughed at his expense, and for his part, Jaqen felt like blushing too. He'd never intended to write more than one song about Arya, but she had a habit of doing things and saying things that would result in him writing a song about it. She unwittingly, and at times painfully, drew out his creativeness.

"Fortunately, they're not all sappy," Ky replied, before beginning to tell Arya about their music and buying Jaqen time to just observe her.

Jaqen had in some ways, always known that Arya's affections would not be easily won. Her inexperience was another factor that he hadn't counted on as being a negative. He had thought that he would be the one to teach her, and give her some of her first experiences of what dating and being a couple was about. He never thought that her inexperience would lead to her being so indecisive.

He glanced down at the top of Arya's purple-tipped head and bit back a sigh. There was a difference, he thought, between indecisiveness and just simply not knowing what one wanted. In Arya's case, he believed that she really did not know what she was looking for in a boyfriend.

His friends were still curious about his interest in dating a freshman, and he couldn't blame them for questioning his choice. They normally saw him date girls older and more experienced than Arya.

There was a knock on the door, and an event organizer came in to speak with them about how the competition was to proceed and when to expect their cues.

"Guys, we're on second to last in the first round," he told his band when the event organizer had left, "We can watch the competition on the TV over there,"

Izembaro walked over to the 22 inch flat screen bolted to the wall in the corner of the room and found the channel where the live feed of the stage was being broadcast into all the dressing rooms. The first thing to register when the sound kicked in, was the noise of the crowd that had gathered outside.

"How, exciting!" Jorge exclaimed.

Jaqen spent a few moments sharing in his friends' enthusiasm, but shortly he beckoned Arya to slip outside of the dressing room with him. Taking her hand, he led her further down the hallway and eventually came upon a door that led to a small holding room. He motioned for her to take a seat on one of the benches that lined the wall, and she watched him nervously as he sat down beside her.

"You guys seem way too calm," Arya stated by way of breaking the silence, "Aren't you nervous?"

"Don't be fooled," Jaqen said, "We might not show it, but we're just as nervous as all the other bands here. I guess we are just used to it, given that we are always on a stage somewhere each week."

Arya smiled at him, "I'm sure that confidence plays a part, too. You're one of the most confident guys I've ever met."

"You are sweet," he'd kept hold of her hand, and now he gave it a squeeze, "Thank you,"

The both of them sat there for a moment, and Jaqen wondered how best to broach the issue they both knew they had to speak about. Eventually, he understood that there was no way to approach it, but head on.

"Arya," Jaqen began, "Will you be honest with me? Even if you think that the truth will not be what I want to hear?"

She hesitated, but gave him a small nod.

"Good," he inhaled, "I've never made a secret how I feel for you…do you feel anything for me?"

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink. "I do like you, Jaqen."

"But, you like Gendry, also." he stated.

Her eyes flicked to his, and he found himself impressed when she didn't look away. "Yes,"

He wasn't going to ask whom she had stronger feelings for, because he could see that she was somewhat distressed by just admitting to her divided affections. He wouldn't put her on the spot and make her choose between them right then. If she were to choose him, then it had to be because she truly wanted him.

"I'm sorry, Jaqen," she whispered to him, "I don't know when it happened…how…"

"You do not need to explain to me," he told her, hardening himself to the jealousy that was now coursing through his blood. "These things just seem to happen, and it always takes us unaware."

"Are you mad at me?" she asked him, "I mean, after what happened with Sandor as well."

Jaqen shrugged, "I am not mad at you, lovely girl. I'm just frustrated at the way things are. Fate is playing games with all of us. As for the Hound, let's just say he will never be my favorite person, but right now I like him better than I like the Bull."

_Because the Hound is not after you._

Arya turned even pinker and dropped her eyes.

"Arya, look at me," Jaqen trailed his hand up to her shoulder, keeping his touch light. She raised her grey eyes back to his. "I want you to know something,"

"What is it?" she asked him, searching his face for some clue.

Jaqen gently cupped her face in his hand and he watched as her eyelids fluttered. Then, slowly, he traced the outline of the curve of her lips with the pad of his thumb. He felt her shiver.

Images flashed through his mind. First came the image of the Hound kissing her, then the Bull…and lastly, the look on Arya's face after the brief, chaste little kiss he had given her on their first date. The kiss he had shared with Arya now seemed sadly inadequate when compared to the kisses she'd had since then.

His mouth tilted in wry amusement, and he suddenly realized that he needed to pick his game up. He'd misjudged her. Arya had never been scared. Not really. She'd just been unsure, and there was a difference there, too.

He wanted nothing more than just to haul her to him and kiss her the way he'd wanted to from the beginning. But he hesitated. She'd been kissing someone else not long before. Her lips were still swollen from it. Kissing her now, knowing she might be thinking of someone else, and when he could still smell the guy's cologne on her made him uncomfortable. He also didn't want to lessen the meaning for either of them.

Instead, he closed the gap between them so that his thigh pressed against hers, and again he ran his thumb around her mouth, and over the line of her jaw, before slowly sliding his fingers down the side of her neck. He let his hand come to a rest at the base of her neck, just above her heart. He then traced the same thumb over her collarbone, and into the hollow at her throat.

Arya's lips parted.

Jaqen found the little spot at her neck where her pulse betrayed the effect he was having on her. He wanted to laugh. He didn't have to kiss her to get her heart racing. He watched her eyes and noted the shallowness of her breath. Arya was reacting to his touch, whether she meant to or not, and this pleased him more than he could say.

"Jaqen?" Arya must have seen the look in his eyes, or sensed the change in his mood for she was looking at him and trembling under his hands.

"You agreed to three dates. Do you remember?" he asked her, his thumb still stroking along her collarbone.

"I…I remember," she nodded, her voice slightly thick. Another tell-tale sign of the effect he had on her.

"I will claim my third date," Jaqen stated, "I want you to know, I am not discouraged by a little competition, lovely girl."

* * *

**Sandor**

"The six, in no particular order are..._The Stone Crows, Silent Sisters, Rangers, Brave Companions, The Faceless Men..._and _Brotherhood Without Banners_!"

Sandor had to admit that his afternoon hadn't turned out to be a complete waste of time. He couldn't say he was having fun – he was too wound up for that, but so far his day had been eventful, to say the least.

He'd been annoyed with Arya at first for once again getting him dragged into something without his prior knowledge, but she had cheered for him at the game the night before (he'd fully expected her not to) so he'd held up his end of the stupid deal. He would have taken her to the competition even if she hadn't cheered for him, but she didn't have to know that.

Sandor smirked at the memory of Arya's loud hollering carrying over the bleachers. He'd find a way to keep reminding her about it, somehow.

They'd bickered the entire way to Baelor's Arena. Apparently he didn't pick her up early enough, but in his defense, the little bitch never gave him a specific time, or tell him why it was so damned important for her to get to the arena so early. The backstage passes the guy at the gate had handed Arya made things a bit clearer for him. Arya had wanted to speak to Gendry.

Running into Joffrey and company had been an unpleasant encounter, particularly when the Tyrell pretty boys had kept watching him during the introductions. Loras Tyrell had even _smiled_ at him, and Sandor had a brief recollection of saving the guy's face from being mangled by Gregor's fist. The Tyrell girl, Margaret or Maggie…whatever her name was, had glanced at him once, then not again.

He'd done his best not to stare at Sansa throughout, but he hadn't been able to help it when Arya had invited her to come with them, and definitely not when Sansa had accepted. Sandor couldn't say which of the two sisters had looked more shocked; Arya for asking, or Sansa for accepting.

In any case, he'd stayed silent and he had followed the little bitch, and the less than chirpy little bird backstage where he'd found himself surrounded by rock-star wannabes.

Gendry Waters had not been happy to see him, that was certain, but that changed as soon as he and Arya had come out of the dressing room and he'd heard whatever Arya had to say to him. Gendry still hadn't been happy to see him, but the murderous glint had been absent from his eyes. Sandor had even been willing to wish the guy luck for the competition, but Jaqen H'ghar had turned up, and he and Sansa had soon been ignored once Jaqen and Gendry had gotten to sizing each other up.

Then Arya had asked them to leave, and he had felt some concern for Arya at that point, but though Jaqen and Gendry looked ready to punch each other, he didn't think they actually would. So, he had found himself alone with Sansa, awkwardly trying to explain to her why he, Arya's boyfriend, had left his girlfriend alone with two guys that quite obviously were interested in her.

And then he had ended up in the sole company of Sansa, after the little bitch bailed on him and Sansa had begged him to stay with her because she didn't want to go back to Joffrey. It had _bad idea_ written all over it. But, once again he'd ignored the voice telling him that she was only asking him because there was no one else, and he'd stayed.

He was playing a risky game with Sansa Stark, and he already knew that one way or another she was just going to cause him more torment. Yet, he had stayed. _She's going to torment you whether you're in her presence or not_, he told himself with a touch of bitterness.

However, things had turned out okay, so far. They'd just watched the first round, the second was about to start, and Sandor was having a better time than he'd expected. Sansa had started screaming again at the mention of _Brotherhood Without Banners_ making it through to the second round. She cheered for _The Faceless Men_ as well, but he noticed that she was more enthusiastic when cheering for Gendry and his friends.

The second round began, and the band called the _Brave Companions_ took to the stage.

"Oh, damn...I can't see!"

Sandor glanced at Sansa, then noted that someone had stepped into her view, "Can you see the screen? I can see just fine."

"Because you're a hundred feet tall," she said sarcastically, "All I can see is the back of that guy's head,"

He glanced at the guy blocking her view again, but decided it wasn't worth getting into an altercation. Looking around him, he spotted the metal railing of the barrier they stood against, and came up with an idea.

"If you stand on the railing, you'll get a better view than me." he nodded towards other people who were doing that very thing, "They've got the right idea. Come on,"

"I'll slip and fall!" Sansa cried even as he reached out to pick her up, doing his best not to notice how nicely the curves of her waist and hips felt under his hands.

"I won't let you won't fall," he assured her.

He carefully perched her onto the metal railing that had to be no more than three feet high.

"Sandor, I don't know about this!" Sansa clutched at his shoulders.

"For a little bird, you really are afraid of heights, aren't you?" he caught sight of her facial expression and laughed, "You're hardly off the ground, Sansa."

"Stop laughing at me!"

Seeing as she was so worried about falling, he stood in front of her and offered to be a prop of sorts.

"Grab onto my shoulders," he turned his head to look at her, "Lean into me if you need to."

She did both, and he had to stop himself from jumping when her slender fingers had curled into his shoulders.

"Better?" he shouted so she could hear him.

"Much better, thank you."

He felt her breath on his cheek, and this time he couldn't help but jump at the sensation. He didn't realize how close they suddenly were. He was now very conscious of the warmth coming from her hands.

Staring straight in front of him, now reluctant to make any move, he became hypersensitive to the slightest movements Sansa made. There were people and noise all around them, but it all faded into the background. There was a band on the stage with some guy in a Viking helmet stumbling about, but he wasn't interested in listening. A cacophony of voices had erupted in his mind, creating a din no one else could hear, but him.

_What is she thinking? Make sure she doesn't fall! This isn't your smartest idea. She's touching me. I don't want her to stop. You're supposed to be her sister's boyfriend. Shut up, I know! You're only torturing yourself. I said, shut up! Don't forget, she's with you because she has no one else to hang around with. She's using you. I don't care. You should, and you do. She didn't want to be with Joffrey. She's with me right now, and I can pretend that she actually wants to be with me, just for tonight._

Sandor was so close to her that he picked up the citrusy notes in her perfume, and feel the lightest brush of her breasts against his back as she leaned into him. He forced his arms to stay at his sides, in case he was tempted to turn around and pull her into his chest.

Her hand moved then, and had he not been so aware of her he wouldn't have noticed it, but a soft tugging against his scalp confirmed what she was doing.

_She's playing with my hair. She's playing with my fucking hair! _No one had ever touched him so gently, not in many years, and he was too stunned to question why she was doing it. He merely relished it. He let her sift the strands of his hair between her fingers, and the sensation of it created goosepimples across the skin of his arms, and rippled throughout his entire body.

Sandor quickly found himself wondering how it would feel to have her fingers continue moving through his hair, down over his shoulder and across his chest. He nearly groaned.

_I need a distraction._

"Who do you think is going to win?" he asked her, a second before he felt the sudden shift of her weight as she started to fall from the railing.

His hands were at her wrists in less than a heartbeat, pulling her to him with enough force that he could now feel the length of her torso against his back. Her face now pressed against the good side of his, and in the process of saving her he'd ended up clutching her hands to his chest.

"Didn't I tell you to hold on?" he growled.

"You startled me," she gushed, and this time her breath tickled the side of his neck.

Her forward momentum and colliding against his body had created a warm puff of air around them that was laced with the combined scents of her perfume, and his cologne. He liked the combination way too much.

"Do you want to get down?" _Please, stay where you are_.

"No," Sansa replied, "I'm fine."

"I told you I wouldn't let you fall," he said, feeling an odd relief at her answer, "But you still need to hold on,"

Sandor faced the stage again, knowing that he didn't need to keep holding onto her wrists, but he was unwilling to let her go just yet. Pretending to be cautious, he found an excuse to pull her against him a little more, repositioning her arms over his chest so that she was basically hugging him. He was grateful that it was dark where they were standing, because he was fairly certain there would be pink on his cheeks, and he didn't want anyone seeing that. The Hound did not blush.

He expected her to move back to her standing position with her hands on his shoulders once she'd found her balance again, so he was curious when all Sansa did was rest her chin on his shoulder. And she stayed there, right where he could feel her breathing against his neck, and where the feel of her body against his, the scent of her skin and hair and her warmth enveloped him in a cloud filled with delusional thoughts of what it would be like if Sansa really were his.

Then she moved her hands, slowly splaying her fingers over his chest the way he'd imagined her doing short moments before. He took in a sharp breath when her little hands _caressed _him, because it really was happening and he wasn't imagining it. He thought he heard her sigh. _What is she doing to me? _Sansa continued to touch him like she had every right to do so. As though it was really him that she wanted in her arms, and all the while Sandor was aware that he should put a stop to it, but he couldn't make himself do it.

The punk-rock _Silent Sisters_ were on the stage, and by this time Sandor's ability to speak had vanished, and his breathing was growing ragged. Sansa was drawing patterns on his chest, and he was acutely aware of his rapidly beating heart just inches from her fingers.

He closed his eyes. _She hasn't got a clue what she does to me._ His body was responding to her, and if he didn't put a stop to things, then the discomfort he already felt below his belt was just going to get worse.

That was when he felt her hot little mouth on the skin at the base of his neck, and his heart seemed to stop. He froze. _She's kissing me!_ Then a warm lick of wetness grazed the same spot on his neck, and he groaned, his mind's eye seeing exactly what she had done to him.

The feel of her lips and her tongue on his neck was incredible, and for a moment he gave in to the sensation. He lay his head against her shoulder, and sank into her arms, lowering his guard and making believe that this moment with Sansa could last.

But then he remembered that it could not, and she was not his.

Then his limbs became rigid, his eyes flew open and he pulled away abruptly. She lost her balance, but he had her shoulders in his hands before she could hurt herself.

"Sansa?"His voice came out gravelly as he stared down at her, his eyes flashing rapidly across her flushed face.

_What are you doing, little bird? Have you lost your mind?_

"I'm sorry," she said in a breathless rush, "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

"No!" he rasped, "Don't apologize."

He searched her face for anything that would signal what she was feeling, or what she was thinking, but all he could see was confusion in her eyes. The same confusion that was probably mirrored in his.

He let her go.

"Don't apologize," he repeated, "Not to me."

He didn't want to hear her excuses. He didn't want to hear her tell him why it was a mistake.

Sansa's eyes widened at his words, "Arya won't forgive me for this! Sandor, this is all my fault. I'm sorry...I didn't mean anything by what I did. I can explain!"

Sandor frowned. _What the hell does Arya have to do with this?_

And just like that, Sandor's bewilderment turned to anger. _That's right. I'm supposed to be her sister's boyfriend._ He stared down at Sansa, the line of his mouth tightening, and soon the burned side was twitching. It was the final straw, really. Now he was supposed to feel affronted on behalf of his pretend-girlfriend.

_ "I didn't mean anything by what I did." she_ had said.

"Did you forget who I am, little bird?" he snarled at her, oblivious to the heaving and screaming crowd around them. "Did you forget whose girlfriend you are, Sansa?"

He couldn't make himself ask if she'd conveniently forgotten whose boyfriend he was, because in truth he was no one's boyfriend. He belonged to nobody.

In his head, he could still remember the conversation he'd overheard in the quad between the cheerleaders, and the sound of Sansa's voice as she'd told her friends that she could never think of him in a sexual manner, and that he frightened her.

Sansa's actions confounded him. Her kissing him made no sense.

"No," she shook her head, "I didn't forget who you are, and I haven't forgotten about Joffrey."

"Then what was that about?" he demanded, "When did you start playing games?"

"I didn't mean to," she pleaded up at him, "I just wanted...Joffrey's been such a...he was flirting with Margaery and...I got carried away…you've been nice to me and -"

"Shut up," he said to her, when he'd made enough sense of her broken rambling.

"Sandor, I -"

"I said, _shut up_." He didn't shout it at her, but he may as well have. Sansa paled under the heat of his stare, "Joffrey's ignoring you, and you thought you'd find comfort in me?"

Sansa just looked away from him, but he didn't need to have her say it. There could be no other reason for her odd behavior, and if he cared to remember, the last time she'd begged him to keep her company had been because Joffrey had abandoned her on her birthday. Joffrey ignoring her to flirt with another girl wasn't that much different.

Her boyfriend treated her badly, and he could understand why she would feel compelled to seek comfort and affection from someone willing to give it to her. He could have been anyone else, and yet he'd had the misfortune of being the one with her both times Joffrey had neglected her.

_I'm done with that. She can find it somewhere else._

"That's it, isn't it?" he rasped, then he leaned over her and gave her a hard glare, "I'm not the one you should be coming to for comfort."

"I won't do it again,"

"And you might want to think about what kind of _comforting_ it is that you ask for," he bit out, "Or people might get the wrong idea."

Sansa turned bright red with embarrassment, but then she looked into his eyes and hers had a challenge in their blue depths.

"You didn't pull away," she said, "Not until I…kissed you,"

"Are you trying to accuse me of something?" Sandor sneered at her.

"You...you let me. Why?"

"Why? Because it felt nice, Sansa." This drew a gasp from her, "Is that what you wanted to hear? My _girlfriend _is backstage with Jaqen and Gendry right now, not with me. Doesn't really boost a guy's confidence, does it? Then you come along and start bloody _touching _me...and it felt _good_, okay? But at what point did I ask you to hug me? At what point did I ask you to kiss my neck? All I did was stand there...the rest was all you,"

"I'm sorry," she repeated, "It won't happen again…I'll apologize to Arya," he saw her wince.

"I'll tell her myself," Sandor growled, and imagined the little bitch's mocking expression.

"It's my fault," Sansa said, "She can't blame you for something I did!"

"Leave it, little bird," Sandor snapped, "Don't even try to understand what's going on between me and your sister, you're not in any position to judge."

Suddenly, he had to get away from her. Sansa's mind was in a shambles because of whatever was going on between her and Joffrey, and she'd somehow dragged him into it. Both Stark girls had caused him nothing but trouble since the day he first laid eyes on them.

Sansa kissing him had messed him up more than he was letting on, and all he wanted to do was put some distance between them. He was supposed to be trying to get over her, but now that he knew what it felt like to be in her arms and how her lips felt on his skin, he knew that getting over her would be that much harder to do.

People were milling around them again, and slowly, Sandor became aware that the second round had ended, and neither one of them had even noticed. He didn't care for the competition now, in any case. He just wanted to leave.

"I'm taking you to Joffrey, and then I'm out of here," Sandor grunted.

Sansa might have made a sound in protest, but he ignored it. She was not his girlfriend, and he was not responsible for her in any way. He wasn't sure he even wanted to be her friend, at that point.

He took hold of her elbow and began barreling his way through the crowd towards the area they had last seen Joffrey, Renly and the Tyrells. By the time he found them, Sansa had schooled her features to that calm mask he'd seen her wear so often around school.

"Where were you?" Joffrey demanded when Sansa rejoined them.

"I'm sorry, Joffrey..."

_Always fucking apologizing!_

"We got held up backstage," Sandor replied curtly.

He didn't stick around after that, leaving without a backward glance.

* * *

**Gendry**

_"Now, ladies and gentlemen! The three bands going through to the Final Round are...Silent Sisters, The Faceless Men...and Brotherhood Without Banners!"_

The people within the dressing room erupted in loud cheering. Somewhere in between the first and second rounds, the number of people in the room had swelled to include Gendry's foster family. His little foster-sister, Tabitha, now threw herself at him and squeezed his waist.

"You're in the final round, Gendry!" she exclaimed.

"Oomph…not so hard, Tabs!" Gendry laughed.

Toby Mott came along and thumped him on the back, and the next few minutes were spent just taking in their success so far.

The door to the dressing room opened then, and Arya let herself in. She'd been alternating between dressing rooms, trying to split her time equally between supporting him, and Jaqen. It was his turn again, and she made a beeline for him, smiling widely as she came to his side.

"I told you you'd make it through to the final round, didn't I?" she asked him.

He smiled back, "Yeah, you did."

She had come back to their dressing room not long after she had agreed to speak with Jaqen. She hadn't told him what they'd spoken about, and he hadn't wanted to ask. He could make a good guess of it. He imagined it would be similar to the conversation he'd already had with her…in his head.

"_I know you like him, Arya…but is there any chance you might like me, too?" he_ would ask her.

_"After that kiss, I think it's obvious that I do," she_ would reply.

_"So, what do we do now?"_

_ "I don't know, Gendry,"_

_ "I guess you're going to have to make up your mind. You'll have to decide who you want to be with."_

_ "But, how? This is so sudden!" she_ would wail, and in his mind there would be a hint of melodrama in her voice, _"And, I've never had a real boyfriend before!"_

_"You'll just have to let me show you," he_ would say.

They hadn't mentioned the kiss, or what it might mean for them, but there was a mutual understanding that they would talk about it when the timing was better.

When she had come back, all she had done was stand at his side and smiled at him, though her smile had been shaky at first.

"When I'm in here, I'm here for _you_," she had said.

Then she had watched from the wings. She'd hugged him as the band had come off stage, and she'd chattered excitedly about how the _Brotherhood_ would surely make it to all three rounds.

"Did you hear them out there?" she'd cried, before breaking into chanting, "BWB! BWB!"

He hadn't seen whether she'd also hugged Jaqen after _The Faceless Men_ had performed. Thinking about it made him jealous, and he couldn't afford to be distracted anymore than he already was, so he chose instead to focus on what Arya had said to him. When Gendry was with her, then he would believe that just for that moment, no one else mattered to her, but him.

By now Beric was beside himself with both elation and trepidation.

"Get a grip, Beric," Tom was saying to him, "This is what you wanted. What we _all_ wanted."

"Chill out, man!" Thoros said to their frontman, "There's nothing to be worried about! Our final song rocks!"

Ellen Mott was now sitting next to Beric, helping Allyria keep their super wound-up leader calm.

The door to the dressing room opened again, and an event organizer came in.

"Congratulations, _Brotherhood_! You're through to the next round!" the man's exclamation was met with more cheers, "You have thirty minutes from now to get yourselves ready, then when you get your cue, head back to the holding room, okay?"

"Got it, thanks," Beric nodded to the man.

"Great," the man then looked around, "Now, is there someone here who goes by the name Weasel?"

Everyone in the room started to shake their heads.

"That's me," Arya suddenly said, "I'm the one called Weasel,"

Gendry turned to her in surprise, "Weasel?"

"Long story," she grimaced, then looked back at the man questioningly, "Is someone looking for me?"

"There's a guy who's been asking for you at the stage entrance," the man said, "He's saying he forgot his pass, but that you would have one for him."

Arya's brows furrowed for a second. "I'll go and see him," she said.

And before Gendry could ask for more of an explanation she'd already disappeared out the door. When she came back five minutes later, Gendry received the biggest shock when he saw who had followed her into the dressing room.

"Lommy!" Gendry stood up.

"Gendry, dude!" Lommy reached out and grabbed Gendry's outstretched hand, before leaning in for a bro-hug and thumping him on the back.

"What are you doing here?" Gendry asked, though he was glad to see his old friend.

"I came to show my support, man. What else?" Lommy replied, then grinned when he saw Toby and Tabitha, "Tobes, Tabs…Oh, hey Mr. and Mrs. Mott!"

Gendry remembered his manners and went around quickly introducing Lommy Greenhands to Beric and the rest, all the while flicking questioning glances at Arya.

"The rest of the guys are outside, but Weasel could only get them to let me in." Lommy said to him.

"The guys are here, too?" Gendry's eyes widened.

"Yeah," Lommy nodded, "You got time to see them?"

"Ten minutes, Gendry," Beric said to him.

He looked at Arya.

"Go," she nodded, and quickly, Gendry followed Lommy outside where four more of his friends were indeed waiting.

"Man, you rocked on stage!"

"Final round, dude! Way to go!"

"Thanks for coming, guys," Gendry said, "I wasn't expecting you all to turn up,"

"Well, we didn't think we would either, but Weasel said we should come, so here we are." Lommy replied,

"And, how _do_ you know Arya?"

"Who?"

"Weasel," Gendry shook his head, "Her name is Arya Stark."

"Stark? Like that rich guy my uncle works for?"

"Yeah, _that_ Stark."

"The circles you move in these days…" Lommy clucked his tongue.

"How do you know her, Lommy?" Gendry pressed.

"Facebook, she said." Lommy shrugged, "She found me through Facebook, then she came to see me at the pool hall the other day."

"She what?" Gendry blinked several times, "Arya went to the 'Lucky 8'? To Flea Bottom?"

"Yeah, she did." Lommy confirmed, "Hustled me good, too!"

The thought unsettled him, but he didn't have time to dwell on the issue just then.

He spent the next few minutes talking to and convincing the security guy to let his friends through to the reserved area so they could find a better viewing spot, before heading back into the dressing room.

"I have questions for you," he said to Arya, "The first being, I hope you didn't go to Flea Bottom on your own?"

Her guilty wince did not please him.

"Arya…"

"Nothing happened! I was safe." she said, but didn't look him in the eyes, which was a dead give-away to her lie.

"What are you –?"

"Holding room, guys!" Beric suddenly interrupted, "Let's go!"

Gendry raised his brow at Arya, "We're not done with this. You're going to tell me why you had to go to Flea Bottom on your own. Actually, you're going to tell me why you had to go there _at all_. Lommy can read, you know. You could have just messaged him on Facebook."

"Just go, Gendry," Arya gave him a shove after the rest of the guys, "I'll be watching in the wings, like before."

In the holding room, Jaqen and his band, as well as the girls of _Silent Sisters_ were already there. Once again, Gendry gave Jaqen a wary nod in acknowledgement. Beric tried to speak to the lead singer of the _Sisters_, but he barely got a response out of her, and he shrugged and gave up. Gendry caught Jaqen's glance again.

"Still have no need for luck, Bull?" the guy asked him.

"What good is luck when chance doesn't have anything to do with this competition?" Gendry said, "Either the crowd likes your music, or they don't."

Jaqen regarded him, both of them trying to figure out where they stood with Arya, and in the unfortunate triangle they now found themselves in. The other guys now stopped what they were doing to listen to their exchange. Even the _Silent Sisters_ were now watching them, too.

"Well said, Bull." Jaqen nodded, "Perhaps I underestimated you,"

"Maybe you did," Gendry agreed.

"They're not talking about this competition, are they?" Beric said to Edric.

"No," Edric replied with a hint of sarcasm, "Oh, gees I wonder what it could be about?"

"Don't give me cheek, punk," Beric glared at him, before turning back to Gendry and Jaqen. "Guys, now is not the time to argue about your rivalry."

"Who said we were arguing?" Gendry asked.

"No, we're not arguing. We were talking about the crowd out there tonight, and what it would take for one of us to win,"

"Other than talent?" Gendry posed, "The crowd knows we've got plenty of that,"

"Some, more than others,"

"Bragging, Jaqen?" Gendry smirked, "Talent isn't everything. The crowd loves an underdog, too,"

Jaqen's bandmates were watching on, and while they could sense there was an undercurrent behind their words, their curious expressions showed that they had no idea what was going on.

Meanwhile, Gendry had to wonder about just which rivalry it was that Beric had been referring to, and just how badly he'd been keeping his feelings for Arya hidden. He hadn't told anyone about Arya and the Hound, but the guys seemed able to tell that there was something there that wasn't quite right.

"Ah…the underdog," Jaqen gave them that half-smile he was known for, "Is that how you see yourself, Beric?"

The question was definitely not intended for Beric, and everyone in the room knew it. Gendry clenched his fingers, and prepared to retaliate, but Beric's response took him completely by surprise.

"If it helps your confidence to see us as such, then fine, I guess we are the underdog," Beric smiled, "However, like Gendry said, sometimes the crowd is looking for something new, something they haven't seen or heard before that captivates them. If you want to see yourself as better than us, then so be it. But, you already know this, Jaqen H'ghar…being the best is not always enough. Being crowd favorite goes a long way in this competition, too, and many times in the past we've seen how the underdog has become crowd favorite and gone on to win."

Gendry only managed to stop himself from gaping at Beric. Even Edric, Thoros and Tom were staring at him. Jaqen was now regarding their frontman with a different expression.

Beric had come to his defense, and superbly so.

"Bravo," said a feminine voice, and they turned to the _Silent Sisters_ lead singer, who was nodding her head in approval.

The door then opened, and a guy holding a clipboard came in, "_Silent Sisters_, you're on." said the backstage hand.

"Let's go _Sisters_!" the lead singer cried, "Here's to the underdog!"

Jaqen and Gendry ignored each other from that point to focus on the competition and their next performance. Gendry wasn't about to let the guy get to him and mess with his game.

"Forget him, okay?" Edric said to him, "We've got this, remember?"

When _The Faceless Men_ were called on stage, the deafening roar they heard through the opened door caught them off-guard.

"Sounds like the _Silent Sisters_ killed it out there," Tom mused.

They spent an agonizing few minutes waiting for _The Faceless Men_ to finish their song, and for their moment in the final. When they were finally called, adrenaline surged through Gendry's veins, and it was a rush that he relished.

"BWB! BWB! BWB!" the chanting had picked up again, and in the shadows behind the stage curtain, Gendry could see Arya and his foster family cheering for them too.

They took their positions on the stage at their instruments under the cover of darkness.

"Ladies and gentlemen…our last contestants_. _The_ Brotherhood Without Banners_!"

The spotlights hit him in the face, and he was blinded for a moment. All he could hear was screaming, and amidst the noise of the crowd, Gendry found his calm as he held the familiar grooves and angles of his Les Paul. _This is it!_

Edric counted them in, and then there was nothing but their music.

The song was titled _Burning Need_, which was about all-consuming passion and obsession, and how obsession could become destructive. Beric's lyrics were provocative, while the music itself was evocative. Gendry had helped Beric write the melody, and he was of the opinion that it rocked.

_"Fire consumes… It consumes, and when it is done there is nothing left…Nothing…"_ Beric sang into the microphone.

Gendry felt on top of the world at that moment. He glanced to the side of the stage and caught sight of Arya's grinning face. It was almost as he'd imagined, and he was glad she had turned up. It wouldn't have been the same without her there.

Then it was over, and the thunderous applause that broke out within the stadium made it seem as though a storm had erupted inside. So loud were the screams that came from their fans that it made Gendry's ears throb.

When he walked off the stage, Arya launched herself into his arms, while Hot Pie and the Motts went around congratulating the other guys.

"That was so freaking awesome! You guys rocked!" she exclaimed while she hugged him.

Gendry hugged her back, "Thanks Arya,"

"Are you glad it's finally over?" she asked him, pulling away slightly.

"In a way, I guess," he said, "Now we just have to wait for the judges' decision."

"Oh, boy," Arya looked at Beric who was in Allyria's arms, "I hate to think how he's going to react if you guys don't win."

"He'll be close to inconsolable," Gendry mused.

Over Arya's head, he saw Jaqen H'ghar watching them from the shadows.

The Battle of The Bands might be over, Gendry thought, but another competition was just getting started.

* * *

A/N

So, yeah...I'm making Sansa suffer a bit more...seriously, I love her, but I wasn't going to let her get away with making a move on Sandor knowing he was dating Arya ...and this is ME writing it...so obviously there was going to be more drama!

I know a lot of you had questions after chapter 15, and I wanted to resolve some of them in this chapter but it didn't turn out the way I planned...so some things will have to wait until the next chapter :)

Rose806 had a question about the sound of the Brotherhood Without Banners and The Faceless Men - I purposely didn't liken them to a particular band, so that each of you could imagine them how you wanted them to be...but in my head, I pictured Jaqen to sound like Brandon Boyd of Incubus. I was listening to a lot of The White Stripes, The Kooks, Incubus, Muse, The Fray, My Chemical Romance, Phoenix and Foster the People...to me Beric Dondarrion always seemed to resemble Chris Martin of Coldplay...so, my influences are wide...take your pick, and if you don't like any of the bands I listen to, then insert whoever you like!

Have an awesome Christmas everyone!


	17. Episode 17 Truths & Lies

**AAAANNNDD HERE IT IS! Oh my gosh! If you've been following me on Tumblr you will know just what a struggle it's been for me to get this chapter written! But finally, it's done, and I want to thank you all for bearing with me and being so patient!**

**Also, I want to say a special thank you to 'outsidethecavern' for the awesome fanart she's created - I've put the links up on my profile for you all to check out! Chicky, you are fabulous!**

**Lastly - thank you to all that reviewed after the posting of Chapter 16 - normally I try to respond to each and everyone, but I never got the chance to this time (what with travelling overseas, then coming down with bronchitis etc...all the dramas!)...but I haven't forgotten, so thank you all!**

* * *

**Episode 17**

"**Truths & Lies"**

**Gossip Spyder**

The winner has just been announced!

The _Silent Sisters _have won! OMG! They've done it!

I could not have predicted that these sassy ladies would beat both the _Brotherhood Without Banners _**and **_The Faceless Men_ to take out this year's Battle of The Bands! Congratulations ladies…awesome things ahead for you all!

As for the BWB and TFM…Beric and Jaqen, you guys were great on stage tonight, but never underestimate the underdogs! Better luck next time…Oh, and Beric, it's not the end of the world – I just saw the guy walking off, close to tears!

With all this excitement, I almost forgot to mention…I received an anonymous tip-off that a party is going to be held by the Baratheons in two weeks time. My source seems to think it's in honor of the Tyrells who've just moved into the mansion, _La Maison des Fleurs…_seems likely, so I'll keep my eyes and ears open for further news on this!

One last bit of news - someone on the football team sent me a text message to say that the after-game party this Friday night will be at Boros Blount's place...which reminds me, there are only two more games left before the play-offs, so watch this space for more football updates!

Once again, a big congratulations to the _Silent Sisters_!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Eddard**

Ned looked at the elegant invitation in his hand and was proud of himself when he didn't groan or swear out aloud. He happened to be walking through a busy office, and it wouldn't be proper to see the CEO behaving in a less than decorous manner.

There was going to be another party at The Red Keep. This time it was to welcome the Tyrell family into the fold, and it was going to be held in a fortnight. He hated formal parties. He'd been to so many formal parties in his time he ought to be used to them by now, and he was, but he would never like the pretentiousness and snobbery that always came with those kinds of gatherings.

"Remind me about this later, would you?" Ned handed the envelope with the invitation enclosed to Jory, who as usual, was a step behind him.

"Sure thing," Jory smiled, knowing what was in the envelope.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you," Ned warned him, "You'll be accompanying the family, this time."

"Security detail, of course."

"And you'll be wearing a tux,"

Jory waited until they were behind the closed doors of Ned's office before he groaned, "I hate wearing tuxedos!"

Jory was rarely seen outside of his preferred attire of black pants and shirt and leather jacket, with the occasional black coat if he had to dress smart.

"You're welcome," Ned returned the man's earlier smile, "So, you said you had something to discuss with me,"

Sitting down across from Ned, Jory appeared to think about how to broach the subject.

"Out with it, Jory," Ned prompted.

"Oh, all right," the man rubbed his jaw, "It's about Arya,"

"Hmm?"

"She's been asking questions…about Gendry Waters,"

"She's aware that I've been known to do checks on her friends, particularly new friends," Ned waved a hand dismissively.

"Yes, but her line of questioning was quite specific," Jory sighed, "She's asking about his past."

Ned put his pen down, sat back in his chair and stared at the man across the desk in front of him.

"Go on,"

"She kept mentioning how much Gendry looked like Renly Baratheon, and how sad it was that Gendry didn't know who his father was."

Ned's mind started working, "When did she speak to you?"

"Sunday evening, after dinner," Jory replied, "She was trying to be subtle about it,"

"Subtle? Arya?" Ned raised his brows in disbelief.

"Yes, exactly," Jory chuckled briefly, "She knows something, Ned."

"How much does she know?" Ned was not surprised to learn that Arya was curious about the boy.

"I suspect she's been talking to Gendry's old friends in Flea Bottom," Jory began, "Meaning she's been to that pool hall I told you about, and if those boys talked, then Arya would now know about Gendry's inheritance. That is, if Gendry hadn't told her first."

"And you say she's noticed the resemblance between Renly and Gendry?"

_She was in the foyer the afternoon Renly and Robert brought Sansa home from the riot,_ Ned recalled. _Gendry was there, and one would have to be blind not to see it._

Jory nodded, "She kept mentioning it. She even went as far as suggesting old Steffon Baratheon had an extra-marital affair after Renly was born,"

"Arya said that?"

"Not those exact words and she didn't mention Steffon exactly… don't make me repeat them," Jory said wryly, and Ned knew very well what colorful vocabulary his youngest daughter was in possession of.

He leaned further into his chair and ran a hand over his jaw, "She knows too much. She's too close to the truth, Jory."

"How do you think she found out?"

"The same way we found out," Ned responded, "We asked questions,"

"And Robert confirmed it,"

Robert had not told him how he'd heard about Jory asking questions, despite Jory's surreptitious methods. With his daughter not being the most discreet of people, he wouldn't be surprised if Robert had already heard about it too.

"It's only a matter of time before she learns the truth," Jory gave voice to the thought now circling Ned's mind, "What are you going to do, Ned?"

Ned had no doubt that his daughter would soon put two and two together. _A secret this big cannot stay hidden forever…the truth will always out._

His major concern lay in what his daughter, once she learned the truth, would do with that information. Would she tell Gendry? Did the boy even know that Arya was prying into his past?

"Will you try and dissuade her from asking further questions? Or convince her she's wrong?"

"You know as well as I do that Arya's too smart, and headstrong for that,"

"Then what?"

"I will have a word to her," Ned decided, "She may as well hear it from me,"

He hoped he would be able to make Arya understand the responsibility that came with knowing something that had the power to irrevocably change a person's life.

* * *

**Arya**

"Beric is driving us all mad," Gendry said to her over the phone, "We knew this would happen if we lost, but even Allyria is finding it hard to cheer him up."

Arya chuckled, "It sounds like he needs a distraction."

"Thoros is about to give him one," Gendry revealed, "A guy called him last night, saying something about a paid gig for an event around Thanksgiving weekend."

"You mean, someone wants to hire the _Brotherhood_ to perform somewhere?"

"That's right,"

"How awesome!" Arya exclaimed excitedly.

"Definitely," Gendry agreed, "If anything, the competition just helped to really get our names out there, you know?"

"Beric must see that, surely?"

"I'm sure he will...once he's regained his sanity," Gendry sighed.

Arya laughed, before glancing at the clock on her nightstand, "Hey, I'll see you at school, okay? My dad's about to leave for work and I'm hitching a ride with him."

"Okay, we'll talk then."

Arya stared at her cell phone briefly after Gendry had hung up. It had been four days since the Battle of the Bands, and while she and Gendry had talked almost every day, their exchanges were punctuated with moments of awkwardness as they silently acknowledged that there was one conversation they still had to have.

They still hadn't spoken about what had happened in the empty dressing room that day, and truth be told, Arya wasn't sure she was ready to have that conversation with Gendry. She had been completely unprepared for his kiss, and also for the confusion it would cause within her.

Jaqen declaring that he would compete with Gendry over her was only adding to the mixed up muddle of her emotions. He had told her that he would be claiming a third date, but so far he hadn't specified a time or place. She had actually been expecting both guys to act almost immediately after the Battle of the Bands, but whatever their reasons for taking their time, she was glad for it.

Perhaps, she thought, both bands needed time to recover from the competition. She'd heard that Beric had been obsessive about rehearsals, and she'd learned from Jaqen's bandmates that Jaqen could be a taskmaster when he had a mind to be. All the guys would probably benefit from some time out. _Beric definitely could do with a handful of chill pills!_

Losing the competition to the _Silent Sisters _had come as a blow for both bands, and Arya had been in the unique position to have witnessed that unfortunate moment.

There had been a forty-five minute interval after the _Brotherhood_ had performed their last song, and as she'd done the entire night, Arya had divided her time between Gendry and Jaqen's dressing rooms. She'd been supportive to both of them, but she'd found herself having to stay neutral whenever someone asked her who she thought should win. She didn't want to be seen as favoring one over the other, because that wasn't the case. If it had been up to her, there would have been two winners.

When the time came and the three bands were called back on stage for the announcement, Arya had waited in the wings along with all of the _Brotherhood's_ supporters. Her stomach had been in knots, and she could only imagine what Gendry, Jaqen, Beric and the other guys must have been feeling.

"And now…the moment you've all been waiting for!" the event host had declared, "The winner of this year's Battle of the Bands competition…and the winner of the prize, including the recording contract with _Marillion Records_…the _Silent Sisters_!"

The arena had erupted with the combined noise of _Silent Sisters_ fans screaming, and fans of the _Brotherhood Without Banners_ and _The Faceless Men_ wailing in disappointment. Arya had gasped in shock at the announcement, and had watched as the shoulders of all the guys from both bands had dropped. Yet, almost as one, they'd squared them again and had been gracious in defeat.

Beric and Jaqen, as the frontmen of their respective bands, had been the first to congratulate the girls of _Silent Sisters_. The others had quickly followed suit, before they had been ushered off the stage so that the winners could play their encore.

"There you have it folks...what an exciting evening we've had! Let's give it up again for the _Silent Sisters_!"

Arya had fretted momentarily when she couldn't decide who to console first, but Tabitha Mott had run straight to Gendry, and with his foster-family surrounding him, Arya saw that her decision had been made for her and she'd walked over to Jaqen.

He'd given her a smile that conveyed his disappointment, and reluctant acceptance of the result.

"Well, we did our best," he'd said.

Arya had walked into the arms he'd held open, and hugged him. She'd realized then that it was the first time she'd properly been in his arms, and that sudden realization merely resulted in her hold becoming awkward.

"I know you did," she'd said into his chest.

Pulling back, Jaqen had glanced briefly to the girls on stage and clicked his tongue, "These girls do not say very much off the stage, but they make enough noise where it counts!"

"It doesn't matter, Jaqen," she'd patted his bicep, attempting to distract herself from the feel of his forearms around her back, "You guys are awesome, and everyone knows it, regardless of who won."

"Defeat still stings."

"I'll bet it does," she'd agreed, "But, I suspect you'll get over it soon enough. You're a _Faceless Man_...I doubt your legion of female fans will think any less of you."

"A legion, huh?"

"Several legions, judging by all the high pitched screaming I heard earlier."

"Several legions...I like the sound of that!" Jaqen's mouth had curved into that half-smile again.

She had been glad that he remained upbeat, and Arya had laughed with him, before briefly commiserating with Ky, Izembaro and Jorge.

"We're going to the _House of Black & White_ to...reflect on what has happened," Jaqen had told her with a grin when they were being directed to head back to their dressing rooms, "I would very much like it, if you would join us."

"Reflect? Or, get drunk?" she'd teased.

Jaqen had laughed, "Well, then...I will be reflecting in moderation!"

Glancing past his elbow, Arya had seen Gendry watching them, and she'd known that she would have to decline.

"I'm sorry, Jaqen," she'd apologized, "I actually should be getting home...it's been a long day."

Her excuse wasn't much of an excuse. It was only nine in the evening, but, as he always seemed to, Jaqen appeared to understand more than what her words could express. Another shade of disappointment tinged the smile he'd given her, before he'd leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head.

"Then goodnight, lovely girl,"

He'd given her one last lingering look, before letting Ky and Izembaro lead him away.

By then, Gendry had disentangled himself from his foster-family, and Arya had gone to stand before him, smiling at him shyly.

"I'll spare you from having to repeat whatever you've just said to console him," Gendry had said quietly, "I know you're sorry we didn't win, and I already know you think we rock."

She'd bitten her lip then, chagrined, yet unable to blame him for the sarcasm she'd heard in his voice. It had been the truth. The entire night, as she'd swapped between their dressing rooms, she'd repeated similar words of support and encouragement to both of them.

_I must have sounded like a recorded message by the end of the night_, she thought.

In the end, she'd told Gendry the same thing she'd told Jaqen when he'd asked her if she'd wanted to go with him to The Hollow, and she'd gone home by herself, so as not to play favorites with either one of them until she'd had a chance to sort her emotions out.

Her parents had been surprised to see her home before midnight, but all they had wanted to know was whether she'd had a good time. She'd then lain awake on top of her bed, replaying the day's events in her head. The kiss Gendry had given her had made her stomach do flip-flops, while remembering Jaqen caressing her neck had made her warm all over, and the combined effects of both had just served to make her feel woozy.

She had still been wide awake when she'd heard Sansa climbing up the stairs just before midnight, and heard as she'd paused just outside Arya's room, but before Arya could ask her what she wanted, she'd heard Sansa close the door to her bedroom.

"What's caused you to frown so early this morning?" her father now asked her as she got into his car.

Sansa had been picked up by her friend Randa earlier that morning. Things between Arya and her sister were rather…awkward. Ever since Sansa's bizarre confession on Sunday morning, which Arya had found almost unbearably uncomfortable.

"Oh, just stuff…school stuff." Arya replied vaguely.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, father."

"How's your friend, Gendry?"

She quickly turned to look at her father, but kept her expression neutral, "He's fine."

"Is he still upset about his band not winning that competition?"

Arya wondered at her father's sudden interest in Gendry, "No. He's fine."

"So, you really are just frowning about school stuff?"

"Yes, father."

"Nothing complicated?"

"No, father," she shot him another look, rolling her eyes for good measure, "Nothing complicated."

Yet, that wasn't the truth. If she had thought that things couldn't get more complicated after the Battle of the Bands competition, then she was so wrong.

Arya recalled that she'd just about fallen asleep, still thinking about Gendry and Jaqen, when her phone had started to buzz on her nightstand. She'd managed to drop the phone on her face before successfully answering it.

"Hello,"

"Arya," a deep voice had rumbled over the line.

"Who's this?"

"Me," had been the response, "Can you talk?"

"Sandor?"

"Who were you expecting to call you at two in the morning?"

"It's two?" she'd squawked, sitting up on her elbow and glancing at the digital clock by her bed, "What do you want at this hour?"

"Can't sleep," he'd said.

"So, you thought you'd make me lose sleep, too?" she'd demanded, "You're a jerk."

"Shut up," he'd snapped, "I have to tell you something, and you're not going to believe me."

"Can't this wait?"

"No, I have to tell you before she does."

"What? Who?"

"Meet me outside your gate in two minutes."

"Where are you?" she'd finally thought to ask.

"Outside your house," he'd confessed, "I've been parked out here for the last half hour."

"You're here?" she'd sworn then, "I'll be down in a moment."

She'd hung up, before rolling off her bed and grabbing the first jacket she came across and shoving boots onto her feet, all while trying to keep her noise level down.

"What's so urgent he couldn't wait until _daylight_ to tell me?" She'd muttered to herself as she'd stuck her head outside of her bedroom, making sure the coast was clear.

She'd then tiptoed downstairs, and out of the front door. The moon had been out that night, and Arya had used its light to guide her down the driveway.

Sandor had been standing just outside of the electronic gate, leaning on his Mustang.

"Sandor," she'd called his name to get his attention, "What are you doing here? Have you gone crazy?"

He'd turned to look at her, and she frowned when she saw how disheveled he looked. His hair had appeared knotted in places, and his clothes had been creased and rumpled.

"Told you…I've got something you need to know," he'd replied.

Looking closer, Arya had realized that Sandor was still in the same clothes he'd been wearing when he'd picked her up for the Battle of the Bands the day before. He looked like shit. Clearly, something had happened to disconcert him.

"What's going on?" she'd demanded, "Where've you been?"

"Nowhere," he'd shrugged, "Just been driving around."

She'd continued to frown at him, before finally deciding that they couldn't talk in the middle of the street.

Sighing, she'd grabbed a hunk of his shirt sleeve and pulled him towards the house, "Come with me."

He hadn't argued, and quietly, she'd led him to the rear of Chateau Maegor and into the rarely used pool house behind the mansion.

She'd shoved him into one of the woven reed outdoor sofas before coming to stand in front of him with her arms folded.

"Out with it, Hound."

Sandor had pushed his fingers through his knotted hair angrily, before glancing at her, "Sansa kissed me."

Arya had blinked, "What?"

"Listen carefully, little bitch," Sandor had rasped, "Your sister made a pass at me tonight."

"I heard you the first time," she'd returned, though she still doubted she'd heard him correctly, "What…_how_ did it happen? You were supposed to take her back to Joffrey…I thought you'd gone home!"

"Well, I stayed," he'd spat, "Turned out to be a bad decision, didn't it?"

"_Sansa_ kissed _you_?" she hadn't been able to help her incredulous tone.

"Believe it,"

She'd frowned at his sullen demeanor, "Isn't this a _good_ thing? _Sansa kissed you._"

"No," he'd disagreed, "It's the worst fucking thing she could have done."

He'd then quickly brought her up to speed on what had led to it, and Sansa's reasoning behind her action.

"I don't understand…she turned vampire and went for your neck, because Joffrey was ignoring her for another girl? Do you have any idea how pathetic that sounds?"

"Her words, not mine," Sandor had said, "I thought I'd better let you know, before she goes and confesses it all to you."

"Confess?"

"Are you forgetting I'm your boyfriend?"

"Oh, man!" she'd whined.

"Exactly," he'd released a sigh, "Keep that in mind and at least try to act angry, not just at her, but with me as well."

"Why would I be angry with you?"

"Because I didn't try to stop her,"

For some moments, Arya had pondered at the things Sandor had just told her. Sansa's actions did not make sense, and the reason she'd given Sandor was pitiful, but clearly Sandor had reacted badly to Sansa's careless act.

"She doesn't know how you feel about her," she'd found herself saying, "She can't have known you'd be…like this."

Her sister had definitely messed with the guy's head...and heart.

"I don't want her anywhere near me," Sandor had stated roughly.

"You don't think that there's a slight possibility that she might have –"

"Don't even dare completing that sentence!" he'd interrupted.

Arya had sighed. _No, I don't suppose Sansa might have those kinds of feelings for you,_ she'd thought. She would see what explanation Sansa would give her for her actions, before writing her off as completely demented.

"Okay, then. I'm, er… sorry for my sister."

He'd snorted at that, "That girl's school you went to teach you that? Apologizing for things that aren't your fault?"

"She shouldn't have done it!" Arya had hissed, "What kind of boyfriend are you? You should have stopped her!"

"Well, I didn't!" he had hissed back, "You don't know how sorry I am about that."

"We only just started talking again…what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't…you shouldn't have left me alone with her!"

"So, now you're saying it _is_ my fault?"

"You ditched me! After dragging me to the damned competition in the first place, you ditched me for the Bull and the _Faceless_ punk!"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"Neither did I!"

Arya's eyes had widened at the confession Sandor had just made, realizing just how strongly he felt for Sansa. He'd just told her that he couldn't have stopped Sansa even if he'd wanted to. The knowledge somehow made her feel worse. She felt bad for him.

Deflating a bit, Arya had slumped into the seat beside him.

"This is stupid," she'd eventually said, "Maybe, we should end this."

"What?" Sandor's head had snapped up.

Arya had shrugged, "What if we broke up?"

"But, we only just got together,"

In the darkness, Arya had still seen the mocking expression on his face and the twitching of his burned lip.

She had not been in the mood to kid around, "I'm serious. You and me, it's not working –"

"No, we're not breaking up."

"But –" _Gossip Spyder hasn't said anything about Sansa, or the guy she was seen with at the pizza place, _Arya had wanted to say. _Sansa is old news._

They'd only pretended to get together so that the Gossip Spyder's eye could be deflected away from Sansa, and now that the Gossip Spyder was no longer gossiping about Sansa, it had made sense to Arya that she and Sandor stop pretending to be dating each other.

"No, Arya," Sandor had grabbed her wrist, "I don't want to break up."

"Sandor?" she'd been surprised at the pressure he used to grip her arm.

"I still need...it's important that..." his grip was starting to hurt, but Arya had felt him shaking as he'd tried to explain himself, "Just, no. I need you...to make this work. _Please_."

Frowning, Arya had put her other hand on top of the one gripping her, and immediately his hold had relaxed. Sandor had been pleading with her. The tables had turned somewhat, and now he needed her to help him.

"Why?"

"I just need _her_ to see..." he'd broken off again, but Arya could guess who 'her' was.

Sandor wanted to keep pretending to date her, for Sansa's benefit. She couldn't see how this was going to help the big brute get over her sister, but in his voice, she could hear that it cost him some of his pride to ask for her help. She would be a bitch to turn him down, and she didn't have the heart to do it at that moment.

"Okay," she'd patted his hand awkwardly, "Okay."

"Just keep your sister away from me," Sandor had muttered.

Later that morning, long after Sandor had gone, Sansa had indeed come to her with her confession. It had been among the most painful twenty minutes Arya had ever experienced. Her sister had apologized repeatedly, and vowed never to do it again, and Arya had hoped she'd responded appropriately.

Sansa had given her the same excuse that Sandor had told her, about feeling neglected by Joffrey. Arya had sensed that her sister had been withholding something, but didn't think Sansa would tell her what it was even if she asked. Things had been strained with Sansa since. Again. Regrettably, but no matter how much Arya wanted to tell her that she wasn't mad and that she didn't care, Sandor's gag order had made her bite her tongue.

After her father had delivered her at the school gate and as she made her way to her first class, Arya had to wonder how she would have acted if Sansa had made a pass at a real boyfriend of hers.

_Yeah, how would you feel if she made a move on Gendry...or Jaqen?_ She asked herself, and an uncomfortable burning immediately flared in her belly. _Good to know you do feel a certain possessiveness for them, Arya._

Yet, she knew that she could only claim one of them. She needed time to think, and perhaps her fake relationship with Sandor would buy her some extra time while she was trying to figure things out. After all, it wouldn't do for her to be seen going out with Gendry or Jaqen, while she was still publicly known to be 'dating' Sandor Clegane.

Arya only hoped that by the time she and Sandor 'broke up', she would be closer to knowing which boy to claim.

At lunch time, she made her way to their recently reclaimed table at the far end of the quad, and found Gendry and Hot Pie already there waiting for her. They were joined, a short while later by Sandor, who sat himself down beside her without a word and proceeded to eat his lunch in silence. Gendry had glared at him, the first day that Sandor had come to sit with them, but Arya had reasoned with him, and reluctantly he'd relented.

"I still don't understand why you can't end this bullshit relationship," Gendry had said, "You said it yourself. Gossip Spyder isn't targeting your sister anymore."

"It won't be for much longer. Something happened between him and my sister. You don't need to know the details."

Gendry had stared at her intently for some time, but Arya wasn't going to break Sandor's confidence this time. She'd seen him with his defenses down, and in the days that had followed his early morning visit, she'd come to sense that he was uncomfortable with having revealed such vulnerability around her.

"Fine, then. Be all mysterious."

Gendry tolerated Sandor's presence at their table, but kept a close eye on him. Arya watched Gendry just as closely. If anyone was being mysterious, it was him.

She'd finally gotten her chance to speak with Jory Cassel about Gendry over the weekend. The opportunity had presented itself when Jory had joined her family for dinner on Sunday night. Arya had cornered him before he'd left, but Jory hadn't been too helpful.

He'd been honest with his answers, confirming the things that Arya knew were fact, like Gendry having grown up in Flea Bottom, and that he had recently come into money. If Jory had been surprised at the things she knew, he hadn't shown it. However, his responses had been vague towards the more specific and intrusive questions she'd asked, which only convinced Arya that he was hiding something. She was convinced that Jory knew something big, something important, and he was keeping it from her.

She glanced at Gendry from across the table then. He was observing Sandor, who at that moment, was glaring in the direction of the table across the quad where Sansa was currently sitting.

_I'm going to find out, Gendry. Whatever my father knows about you, I'm going to find out._

* * *

**Sansa**

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

Sansa turned her head to find Joffrey frowning at her, "Sorry, did you say something?"

"You haven't been listening to anything I've been saying, have you?" Joffrey demanded.

She suddenly realized that everyone at the table was now looking at her, and she flushed in embarrassment. She hadn't heard anything Joffrey had said. She hadn't heard much of anything anyone had been saying.

"I'm…I…" she began to stammer.

"Sansa, are you feeling okay?" Jeyne gave her a meaningful look, "You don't look so well."

"Um…I think I'm –"

"Oh, poor thing," Jeyne came to her side and gently pulled her to her feet, "Let's go to the nurse's office. You might be coming down with something."

"You're sick?" Joffrey made a look of disgust, "Go on, then."

Jeyne's hand on her arm tightened, and Sansa allowed her friend to pull her away from the table.

"I hope you feel better soon, Sansa," Randa said as they walked away.

Silently, Sansa followed Jeyne from the quad into the cafeteria, then down the hall, but when they neared the corridor that would lead to the nurse's office, Sansa had to look at Jeyne when her friend continued pulling her down the hall.

"Jeyne?"

"You're not sick," she said, smiling at her, "But, there is something on your mind."

"Then where are you dragging me to?" Sansa asked her.

"Somewhere we can talk,"

Sansa sighed.

"Or, at least somewhere you can drop your guard."

Jeyne eventually pulled her into an empty classroom, and ordered her to sit down at one of the desks.

"What's going on with you, Sansa?" Jeyne asked, "Is there something wrong with you and Joffrey? You've been acting funny ever since the riot, and you've been really detached the last few days."

"I'm fine, Jeyne," Sansa replied, unconsciously tucking her fingers into the folds of her skirt so they wouldn't betray that she was shaking.

"No," Jeyne insisted, "You're not. You don't have to lie to me."

Sansa looked up and met Jeyne's earnest brown eyes, "Is it obvious?"

"It's obvious to me that you're hiding something."

"What about the other girls?"

Jeyne shrugged, "Randa's been asking questions, and the other girls just think that you and Joffrey have had another fight."

Sansa's shoulders dropped, and she looked away from Jeyne. She'd been keeping things to herself so long, worrying about what people would think of her, and pretending that nothing was wrong. She hadn't really been fooling anyone, and she knew that now.

"You can talk to me, Sansa," Jeyne said softly, "Whatever it is, I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"It's complicated," Sansa admitted.

"Then, start with the first thing on your mind," her friend urged.

Sansa didn't even know where to begin. She'd allowed all of her worries and emotions to build up to the point that she was a festering mess of guilt and frustration…and it was poisoning her.

She was sick of bottling everything up. She was tired of having real conversations with no one but herself, and she was just sick of being lonely.

She looked up at Jeyne, and opened her mouth.

"I don't want to be with Joffrey any longer," were the first words to come tumbling out.

Jeyne merely tilted her head, and Sansa exhaled heavily. _There, I've said it. _She didn't expect her next inhale to be easier and deeper than any breath she'd taken in weeks. She'd uttered nine words, and the difference it made to the weight on her shoulders amazed her, as though admitting her feelings out aloud had somehow unburdened her.

"How long have you felt this way?" Jeyne asked quietly.

"A few weeks," Sansa replied, "Since the riot, but I think longer than that. I just didn't realize it."

"What made you change your mind?"

Sandor Clegane, she thought.

"A number of things," was what she said, and hesitantly she began to tell Jeyne about what made her start having second thoughts about Joffrey, but without mentioning Sandor's name, "He doesn't care about me, Jeyne. He only cares about being popular."

"But, that's not all, is it?" Jeyne prompted.

Sansa looked at her closely, and realized that Jeyne had not seemed shocked by anything she'd just told her.

"None of this surprises you?"

Jeyne gave her a sad sort of smile, "It's been obvious to me that you're unhappy, and I've seen the way you act around Joffrey. Everyone saw the fights you had, and the way he accused you of cheating on him with that pizza parlor guy –" her friend paused as Sansa flinched, "What is it?"

"I never cheated on Joffrey," Sansa winced, "But, I did go to a pizza parlor with a guy, but that's all. We just had pizza."

"Sansa, who was it?"

Taking a deep breath, Sansa managed to squeak out his name, "Sandor."

"Sansa!"Jeyne's eyes went round, the news taking her by surprise.

"Nothing happened, I swear! Jeyne, nobody can know," Sansa stressed, "If _anyone…_if _Gossip Spyder_ finds out then I'm dead!"

"No one's going to find out, Sansa! I promise." Jane vowed, reaching out to squeeze Sansa's forearm.

Relaxing a bit, and sensing the next question that her friend was about to ask, Sansa told Jeyne why she was with Sandor, and why she'd chosen to lie and not reveal his name when Joffrey demanded to know the pizza guy's identity.

"He'd just saved me from the riots, and I just wanted to thank him," Sansa explained, "I never meant for him to be gossiped about, and I certainly didn't want him dragged into my problems with Joffrey."

When Sansa finished speaking, she found Jeyne watching her with that curious expression back in her brown eyes.

"I didn't know that Sandor saved you during the riot. Why would you keep something like that quiet?"

"Because, I didn't want to bring attention to Sandor," Sansa replied, "He doesn't like people looking at him, as it is."

Jeyne's eyes only narrowed further, "And, why does that matter to you?"

Sansa sat back, and then proceeded to open and close her mouth, though nothing came out.

"Sansa…" Jeyne leaned forward in her seat, "Do you have feelings for Sandor?"

"No! I don't…" Sansa started shaking her head vehemently, "Really, I –"

Jeyne gave her arm another squeeze, "It's okay if you do."

"No, it's not!" Sansa denied, "He's my sister's boyfriend, how could that be okay?"

With that outburst, the truth was out, and Sansa looked at her with eyes that shone with tears, pleading for understanding and daring Jeyne to judge her.

"So, that's it," Jeyne said softly, "That's what this is about."

"That's not all of it," and as though a dam had been breached, Sansa spilled it all out while tears began to run down her cheeks, "I did something awful, Jeyne…I kissed Sandor."

Jeyne gasped at this, and silently she listened as Sansa told her what had happened leading up to that moment during the Battle of the Bands, and the things Sandor had said to her after he'd pulled away from her.

"He hates me, Jeyne," Sansa sobbed, "He said he wants me to stay away from him."

"He told you that?"

Sansa shook her head, "No, I…I overheard him and Arya...Oh, God! Arya couldn't even look at me!"

"Sansa, breathe," Jeyne soothed, "When did you hear them talking?"

"He came to her that night, afterwards," Sansa recalled, "I followed them, and I know I shouldn't have but…"

Sansa remembered the way Sandor had been so angry with her right after he'd pulled away from her arms. He'd been so confused as well. She'd seen it in his grey eyes and all over the taut lines of his face. Then had come the anger he'd directed at himself, and the guilt.

She'd forced him into a comprising position. She'd put his relationship with Arya at risk…although, it seemed like things weren't so rosy between them.

"_My girlfriend is backstage with Jaqen and Gendry right now, not with me. Doesn't really boost a guy's confidence, does it?"_ he'd said.

Yet, that was beside the point. Whatever issues they were having was between them and didn't concern her. The point was, she shouldn't have touched him, and any reaction he'd had to her kiss did not matter.

_He pulled away first, _she reminded herself.

Then he'd taken her back to Joffrey, and walked away without another glance. Afterwards, she'd been forced to act like nothing was wrong in the company of Renly Baratheon and the Tyrells while the rest of the Battle of the Bands competition had played out.

Unfortunately, Joffrey seemed to remember that she was his girlfriend, and Sansa had found herself fighting hard to keep her wits about her, particularly when one of the Tyrell's would direct a question her way. Sansa could only hope that her behavior had not seemed too distracted.

When Renly had offered her a ride home, she'd had to reign in her eagerness to accept, but inside she'd been laughing when Joffrey had insisted she take him up on it.

"Renly's going in your direction. It makes more sense for him to take you rather than me having to make a round trip."

She'd been silent on the ride home, but she'd excused herself as being tired when Renly had commented on it. In reality, her mind had been in turmoil, worrying about how she was going to explain herself to Arya.

She'd paused outside Arya's door when she'd reached home, tempted to knock on it and just get it over with, but she'd changed her mind at the last minute. Instead, she'd lain awake in her bed, unable to sleep.

She'd been surprised to hear movement in Arya's room some hours later, and even more surprised when she'd heard Arya's door open and close. Curiosity had made Sansa get out of bed, and she'd poked her head out the door just in time to see the top of Arya's head disappear down the staircase. She'd heard the soft click of the front door closing shortly after. She'd then ignored the voice in her head telling her to forget about it, and had followed after Arya.

In the garden, Sansa had concealed herself in the dark shadow of a tree, and she'd seen that it was Sandor who'd been the reason for Arya sneaking out of the house at two in the morning. She'd had to tuck herself further into the shadow when Arya had grabbed Sandor and led him through the gate, and beyond the mansion.

Again, she'd ignored the voice telling her to mind her own business and she'd followed them some minutes later, hiding behind one of the decorative columns in front of the pool house, just within earshot of where she could see Arya standing in front of a seated Sandor.

She'd been dismayed to hear that they were arguing, and to her utter humiliation and shame, she'd listened as they argued about her.

"I don't want her anywhere near me," Sandor had said.

Sansa had bitten her lip at his words. She knew that he'd been referring to her.

"You don't think that there's a slight possibility that she might have –"

"Don't even dare completing that sentence!"

"Okay, then. I'm, er… sorry for my sister."

Sansa had heard him snort then, "That girl's school you went to teach you that? Apologizing for things that aren't your fault?"

"She shouldn't have done it! What kind of boyfriend are you? You should have stopped her!"

"Well, I didn't! You don't know how sorry I am about that."

"We only just started talking again…what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't…you shouldn't have left me alone with her!"

"So, now you're saying it is my fault?"

"You ditched me! After dragging me to the damned competition in the first place, you ditched me for the Bull and the _Faceless_ punk!"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"Neither did I!"

Sansa had covered her mouth at the bitterness in his tone. She'd forced herself on him. It hadn't been his choice, and she'd gotten him into strife because of it.

There'd been a moment of silence, and Sansa had stuck her head further around the column to see her sister take a seat beside her boyfriend.

"This is stupid," her sister had said quietly, "Maybe, we should end this."

"What?" Sandor had asked sharply.

"What if we broke up?"

"But, we only just got together."

"I'm serious. You and me, it's not working –"

"No, we're not breaking up."

"But –"

"No, Arya," Sandor had then reached for her sister's arm, "I don't want to break up."

"Sandor?" Arya had sounded surprised.

"I still need...it's important that..." Sandor had been struggling to find his words, but Sansa nonetheless, heard the desperation in his voice, "Just, no. I need you...to make this work. _Please_."

Sansa hadn't been able to listen to anymore. She couldn't listen to Sandor pleading with Arya not to break up with him. She couldn't bear hearing another word confirming that Sandor was not _hers._

She'd run back to her room, and after grabbing her towel from the bathroom to stifle any noise she'd make, she'd proceeded to cry herself to sleep.

In the morning, she'd made herself knock on Arya's bedroom door. The look on her sister's face when she'd opened her door had told her that Arya had been expecting her.

"I already know, Sansa," Arya had said, her voice tight, "I don't need you to tell me again."

"I'm sorry, Arya. I truly am!"

"I'm sure you are," Arya's voice had been flat.

"Please, you have to hear me out," Sansa had pleaded, "I never meant for it to happen…it's all a huge mistake."

"You don't have to tell me again, I said," Arya had repeated, "Sandor already told me what happened."

"Please, don't break up with him because of me…it wasn't his fault!"

"He's as much to blame as you are."

"No, no! He pulled away, Arya," Sansa had been quick to point out, "He didn't do anything!"

"You're right," Arya had looked at her feet, "He did nothing to stop you."

"_He pulled away!_" Sansa had repeated, "He didn't reciprocate!"

"Why'd you do it, Sansa?" Her sister had finally demanded, "He's _my_ boyfriend."

"I…I don't know how to say…I was lonely, and Joffrey was being a jerk and flirting with Margaery, and –"

"That's pathetic, Sansa," Arya had bit out, "Even for you, now tell me the truth!"

Sansa had lowered her eyes then, unable to meet Arya's gaze while she lied to her, "He was being nice to me…and I took advantage of his kindness. I'm so sorry."

"If your boyfriend's such a jerk, maybe you should dump him and find someone else…and leave mine alone."

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," had been all Sansa could say.

"Just…just stay away from Sandor."

Sansa now wiped at her cheeks and looked at Jeyne, "I couldn't tell her the truth."

"She's your sister," Jeyne said, understanding, "It's a lie you had to tell…so you won't hurt her further."

Nodding, Sansa smiled wanly. Telling Arya how she really felt about Sandor would only hurt her more.

"Do you think she'll forgive me?"

Jeyne gave a small shrug, "That's up to her. You can only show her that you're sincere about not going after Sandor."

Sansa sighed, and she spent some moments calming down so that she would stop crying.

"What do I do now, Jeyne?"

She felt so foolish then, once again thinking about how much effort she'd put into pretending that nothing hurt her, and that everything was all rainbows and fairytales. Thinking back on it, there had been a number of times that Jeyne, Randa and even Mya had observed her curiously. As though they'd been reading her thoughts.

_Perhaps they were,_ she thought.

"Well, maybe you can start thinking about how you're going to break up with Joffrey."

"It's not that easy," Sansa winced, "In case you didn't notice, he's kind of…possessive."

_Also, violent and psychotic,_ she thought.

"I thought you said he basically ignored you for Margaery Tyrell."

"He did, but it doesn't mean he'll let me go easily. Joffrey won't break up with me, unless it's on his terms."

"He's never…hit you, right?" Jeyne asked, worriedly.

"No," Sansa replied, "He's never hit me."

Even as she denied it, the memory of him crushing her wrists that day in the quad came back to her, as well as the threat he'd uttered into her ear.

"_I don't like hurting you, Sansa,"_ Joffrey had said as his fingers had cut into her wrists, _"I just hate being made a fool of, do you know what I mean?"_

Somewhere, deep down, she felt that all she would have to do was give Joffrey the smallest of reasons to hurt her, and he would do it without hesitation.

"Well, since you can't seem to fix that situation immediately, let's start with something you can," Jeyne stood up and held her hand out, "Come on, let's go wash your face and do something about your puffy eyes."

Sansa accepted her hand and smiled at her friend, "Thanks, Jeyne. For listening to me."

"Hey, that's what friends do," Jeyne returned her smile, "Now, will you be going to the party at Boros' place after the game this Friday?"

* * *

**Sandor**

He needed to beat something up.

The urge to cause damage wasn't new. It came when he was frustrated or stressed. It was either beat something up, or get raging drunk. But, he had a game that night, and he was in the middle of English class, which meant he had little option but to stay in his seat and bear it. Worse still, they were studying Shakespeare. _Hamlet_, to be precise. Ordinarily, he didn't mind Shakespeare, but he was too wound-up to focus on the wordy tome in front of him.

There were two reasons for his short-temperedness. The first came courtesy of Coach Selmy, who had sent for him first thing that morning to tell him of a change in that evening's line-up.

"I need you to play on the offensive line-up tonight, Clegane."

"Coach?"

"Brune's come down with the flu, didn't you hear?"

"No, sir."

"Well, now you do," Coach Selmy had said, matter-of-factly, "And you're taking his spot tonight."

"But, sir –"

"No arguments, Clegane!"

Sandor had walked away from Coach Selmy's office grumbling and swearing. He did not like playing on the offensive line. He avoided it if he could help it, and the reason for this was because people compared him to his brother Gregor, who played on the offensive line in college, whenever he did. Few things could anger him more than comparisons to his much-loathed older brother.

The second and predominant cause of his foul mood could be credited to a pretty, red-haired little bird. Even after almost a week since she'd kissed him, Sandor was still feeling anger and bitterness towards Sansa, and also with himself…for letting her become his weakness.

He'd never reacted like this to any girl before, and he hated feeling as though he'd lost control of his emotions. Everyone knew the Hound as this bad-tempered tough guy, but Sansa had him whimpering like a lost puppy, and he didn't like that at all.

After he'd returned Sansa back to Joffrey's side and fled Baelor's Arena, he'd gotten into his Mustang and had driven around aimlessly for hours. He'd first driven to Trident's Bend, then to Flea Bottom, even heading to the port at Braavos where he'd sat by the water's edge for a time, replaying the incident with Sansa in his mind again and again.

Then somehow he'd found himself outside Chateau Maegor, staring up at the blackened windows of the mansion, and wondering which one belonged to Sansa. He had no recollection of driving to the mansion, but eventually he'd regained some of his senses, and seeing as he was already outside her house he decided he'd wake Arya up and tell her what had happened.

He'd expected merciless ridicule from the little bitch, especially as their friendship – if he could call it that – was somewhat unorthodox, and she'd spent more time loathing him than not, during their acquaintance. However, she'd shown him a level of understanding that he truly wasn't expecting.

Sandor also never expected her to agree to keep pretending to be his girlfriend, either. He'd actually been prepared to blackmail her, if necessary, but instead she'd patted his hand and readily agreed. He needed her to keep pretending, for _his_ benefit. Sansa already thought they were together, and she could keep right on believing it until it no longer suited him to keep pretending…or until the little bitch stopped feeling generous towards him, whichever came first.

His life had suddenly become a joke. If it had happened to someone else, he might have laughed.

_But, it's never funny when the joke is on you,_ he thought.

Over the past few days, he'd come to a decision about Sansa's behavior. He'd had to find a way to make sense of her actions, because he couldn't allow himself to think she'd kissed him because she _wanted _to.

_"I didn't mean to,"_ she'd said to him, _"I just wanted...Joffrey's been such a...he was flirting with Margaery and...I got carried away…you've been nice to me and __–__" _

He'd thought about what she'd been saying to him before he'd interrupted her, and of the conclusion he'd made at the time, thinking she was just looking for some kind of comfort because of how badly Joffrey treated her. Sandor decided that it really was the only way to explain her uncharacteristic behavior.

Sansa was confused, neglected and taken for granted by Joffrey. She would be much better off dumping the blonde jerk…and therein lay part of the blame for his frustration. Sansa, stupid little bird that she was, and for reasons known only to her, still had not broken up with Joffrey.

Knowing that Sansa hadn't been thinking straight when she'd kissed him did not lessen his anger or bitterness, but it did provide him with a new target where he could channel some of that negativity.

He ran into Joffrey in the hallway during mid-morning break.

"I heard you're playing offense tonight, Hound."

"Coach Selmy's orders," Sandor confirmed, "Brune's sick."

"Shouldn't make much of a difference to you," Joffrey observed, "You'll still be grinding faces into the ground!"

"Coach probably thought the same thing," Sandor shrugged.

"You just make sure you do your job and keep their defense off my back," Joffrey told him, "Anyway, have you seen Sansa?"

"No."

"She's been avoiding me, and she's kidding herself if she thinks she's fooling me."

"Avoiding you?"

"She's been missing my calls," Joffrey explained, "And she hasn't sat with the group the last couple of days."

"Is that all?"

"I still think she's cheating on me," Joffrey spat, "I thought she had something going with that Theon Greyjoy, but I'm starting to think the Gossip Spyder was right."

"What are you talking about?" Sandor frowned.

"Remember that post about Sansa being seen with some douche at a pizza place?" Joffrey replied irritably, "I've been trying to work out why Sansa's been acting so strange…I mean, she won't have sex with me, and she's barely let me touch her lately."

Sandor huffed, "Because of that, you think she's cheating on you?"

"If she's not giving it up to me, then she must be giving it up to someone else!"

"That's bullshit."

"It makes _perfect_ sense," Joffrey insisted, "Why are you defending her? Do you know something that you're not telling me?"

Joffrey whirled around to face Sandor with his eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Sandor kept his fist clenched tightly around the strap of his backpack in case the temptation to hit something grew too strong.

"Fuck off," Sandor rasped as he narrowed his eyes in return, "You must be mistaking me for the Spyder, how should I know what's going on with _your_ girlfriend?"

Joffrey wasn't so easily intimidated by the tone of Sandor's voice, "You're banging Arya –"

"I am not banging –"

" – and she must tell you things, right?"

"Wrong," Sandor stood to his full height and towered over Joffrey, "And, don't ever talk about Arya like that, again."

"What the hell's your problem?" Joffrey demanded.

"I'm not the one with a problem," Sandor said gruffly, "Where did you say Sansa was?"

Joffrey's mouth had formed a thin line, and Sandor knew him well enough to see his stance shifting, as though preparing to attack.

_Go on, take a swing at me!_ Sandor, thought, knowing he was purposely baiting the jerk. However, instead of taking a punch at him, Joffrey unexpectedly smirked.

"I know what this is," he said, "You're keyed up about tonight's game."

Sandor said nothing, knowing full well the exact reason for his foul mood.

"Save it for tonight. The Lhazar High _Rams_ have a strong team this year."

"Whatever," Sandor shrugged, before he shouldered past him.

"Coming to the after-game party at Blount's tonight?" Joffrey asked before he turned to head down another corridor.

"No," Sandor replied honestly.

"Why, not?"

"I'm not in the mood to put up with assholes tonight," Sandor spat, before turning on his heel without waiting to see Joffrey's reaction.

At lunch time, Sandor detoured by Arya's locker in the hopes she would be there, and when he found her, he grabbed her hand after she'd slammed her locker shut.

"Hey!" she yelped as he yanked on her arm, "What's your problem?"

"Why does everyone think I have a fucking problem?" he grumbled, leading her to the cafeteria with her hand clutched in his.

"Because you look like you want to rip somebody's head off," she replied, turning her face up to his, "Who pissed you off, and what did he do?"

"Joffrey Baratheon," Sandor said loud enough so only she would hear, "And he pisses me off just by breathing."

Arya cackled with laughter, and she was still breaking out in fits of giggles when they joined Gendry and Hot Pie at their usual table in the quad. Sandor sat down beside her, and scowled back at Gendry when he found the guy looking on disapprovingly at how close he was to Arya.

Earlier that week, Arya had told him briefly told him what had happened between her and Gendry.

"Gendry kissed me, but that's all I'm saying about it. And he doesn't get why we're still pretending to be a couple."

"So, you're going to choose him?" he'd asked.

Arya had flushed, "I…uh…"

"Here's a simpler question; do you like him?"

"Yes."

"Jaqen, too?"

Arya's flush had deepened, and Sandor had laughed. He'd laughed because the little bitch was looking at heartache one way or another, and he'd laughed because he couldn't believe the kind of conversations he'd been having with her the past couple of weeks.

"You're playing against Lhazar High tonight?" Hot Pie asked him.

The fat junior had, much to his surprise, accepted him into their group quite readily, after he'd wrested a promise out of Sandor that he wasn't going to do anything to hurt Arya, that is. The guy had quite understandably, had reservations about him, especially knowing what Sandor had done to their ginger-haired friend.

"Yep," he replied, "You guys coming to watch?"

"Of course," Arya grinned, "Right, Gendry?"

Gendry shrugged, "Just don't expect me to start cheering for you."

"You have a game plan for tonight?" Hot Pie ignored Gendry and carried on like he hadn't spoken.

"I'm on the offensive line tonight," Sandor frowned, his displeasure evident, "Coach Selmy's gone through some plays with us, but it could all change on the field."

"Offense?" Arya looked at him questioningly.

"Brune's sick, and I'm the human bulldozer Coach Selmy's chosen to take his place."

"Hmm…I've got a game plan for you," Arya said with an evil grin, "I think you should let some of their linemen through."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course!" her evil grin widened, "What do you think will happen if you did?"

"They'd go for our Quarterback…" Sandor suddenly understood what she was hinting at, and he found himself regarding her with respect, "We could lose the game, you realize?"

She waived her hand in the air dismissively, "You guys are going into the finals anyway. What's one game?"

"Arya, did you just suggest what I think you just suggested?" Gendry looked at her with a frown between his brows.

"I did, and I stand by it."

Gendry nodded, and even he couldn't contain his smile, "I thought so…this, I _have_ to see!"

That night, knowing full well that Coach Selmy would rip into him afterwards, Sandor suppressed his natural athletic prowess and allowed the _Rams_' linemen to get past him every now and then, just to watch them take down his own team's Quarterback…Joffrey.

The only thing better than watching Joffrey eat dirt, he thought, was if he could have been the one shoving his face into it, instead. Sandor had looked on with sadistic amusement each time the blonde jerk went down.

It was worth the six-point loss, in his opinion.

Unfortunately, it only put Joffrey in a foul mood as he now had to nurse some scrapes and bruises.

"What the hell is your problem, Hound?" Joffrey screamed at him in the locker room, "Were you letting them through on purpose? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"It wasn't my night," Sandor shrugged, unconcerned.

Joffrey had been about to launch into another tirade when Coach Selmy barged into the locker room.

"Clegane!"

Sandor braced himself, and for the next fifteen minutes, he nodded and said 'yes, sir' obediently while their Coach proceeded to give him a thorough dressing down about his conduct on the field that night.

After he'd been dismissed, he showered and changed, and did his best to avoid Joffrey on his way out.

"Hound!" Blount called after him, "Are you coming to my place tonight?"

"No,"

"Why, not?" Blount asked, "You can bring your little girlfriend."

"Forget him," Joffrey said from behind Blount, "We lost the game, no thanks to him."

Blount ignored him and turned back to Sandor, "Come around if you change your mind."

Sandor made no comment as he walked out of the locker room. Arya, Gendry and Hot Pie had stuck around to wait for him, and he was certain it had been at Arya's insistence, but all three of them were looking pleased to see him.

"I can't believe you really did it!" Arya exclaimed, "Joffrey got creamed!"

"I didn't think he was going to get up after that last time he went down!" Hot Pie added.

Sandor bared his teeth in a feral sort of smile, "Worth losing the game and definitely worth the fifteen minutes Coach Selmy spent shouting in my face!"

"Come on," Gendry said, "Let's go get some food."

With no better place to be, and not particularly wanting to be alone, Sandor had gone with them.

They ended up at The Hollow, a first for Sandor, and was surprised to find that no one gave him a second glance at the place. The Hollow catered to a different crowd than he was used to, and with the memory of Joffrey's face as he'd been tackled for the fifth time still fresh in his mind, Sandor found himself in a slightly better mood. Even though his companions were carrying on a conversation around him, and he wasn't participating, he didn't feel excluded. Gendry might be cool towards him, but his attitude towards him had become much, much less hostile...as long as Sandor didn't touch Arya in front of him.

Arya's phone buzzed on the table in front of her as she received a new message, and Sandor watched as she quickly swiped it from the table and into her bag after she'd read it. The widening of her eyes and the tinge of pink in her cheeks allowed him to deduce who the message had been from.

"Is it from _him_?" Gendry too had been observing her closely.

To her credit, Arya did not deny it, "Yes."

She didn't elaborate, but Sandor shared a look with Hot Pie as if to say 'there will be trouble' if they didn't break the tension. Glancing at his watch, Sandor decided it was late enough to call it a night.

"It's late, I'm taking off," he stood up and looked at Arya, "Want a lift home?"

"I can take her –" Gendry began.

"Thanks, Sandor," Arya quickly stood up from the table, "You live closer."

That was bullshit, and they all knew it, but Sandor could understand why she wanted to avoid a confrontation with Gendry. The guy clearly was unhappy with Arya's decision, but he didn't try to stop her. Sandor normally did not feel sorry for people, mostly because he normally didn't give a shit about anyone. But, at that moment he thought he might feel some pity for the guy.

Sandor knew where he stood with Sansa; it was never going to happen. Gendry however, had to deal with the uncertainty of not knowing which way Arya's affection would sway, and all the jealousy that went with knowing another guy was after her, and each day hoping that she would choose him over Jaqen.

Sandor did not envy him. In his opinion, it was better to know exactly where you stood with a girl, rather than cling to hope. Hope could drive a person mad, he thought.

After Arya had strapped herself into her seat, and Sandor had pulled away from the parking lot, he was taken by surprise at Arya suddenly dropping her face into her palms.

"What am I going to do?" she asked herself, her voice muffled by her hands, "Oh, my god...what should I do?"

"Let me guess," Sandor rasped, "The _Faceless_ punk asked you to do something?"

"A third date," Arya nodded, still not removing her hands from her face, "He's claiming a third date! I don't know what to say!"

_Third date...what?_ Sandor did not want to know. It was enough that the little bitch was losing it beside him.

"Um...you're asking the wrong person," he said, and stayed silent for the rest of the drive.

He ended up driving through the gates of Chateau Maegor and delivering Arya at her door, where he noticed the torn expression on her face.

"Sandor," she turned to him, her hand on the door handle, "Do you think I'm leading them on? Am I a bad person?"

Sandor could have said all kinds of mean and mocking things in response to her question, but there had been such a vulnerability in her eyes that he'd bitten back the retort he'd been about to say.

"You're not a bad person," he said instead, "You're fourteen, and I don't think anyone could blame you for being unsure."

She stared at him a moment longer, also seeming surprised by his response, before giving him an awkward smile, "Thanks...goodnight, Sandor."

He gave her a nod, before driving away. At the end of her street, he looked at the clock on his dashboard and decided it was still too early to go back to his dark and silent house. He dialed Blount's number on his cell phone.

"Hound, are you coming over or what?"

"Party still going?"

"Sure is!"

"Joffrey still there?"

"I don't know, maybe...I haven't seen him in a while."

Sandor hung up and decided to risk it. There would be booze, and he could do with a drink. He still needed a distraction from his own depressing thoughts, and if it meant putting up with assholes for a while, then he was willing to pay the price.

Reaching Blount's place some fifteen minutes later, he found the driveway lined with cars, and people still milling about in the yard and in the living room. Sandor navigated his way through the crowd and grabbed a bottle of beer from an ice-filled cooler in the kitchen, and found Blount and Trant in the backyard with some other guys on the team. A quick survey around him did not reveal Joffrey, and Sandor was pleased about that.

However, his eyes did land on Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole, who was sitting with the cheerleaders called Randa and Mya at the other end of the yard. He frowned slightly, but did not want to entertain the thought that Sansa would be around, too. If she was, then he would do his best to ignore her, as he'd done the entire week at school.

"Hound," someone called out to him, "Don't bite my head off, okay? But, what happened tonight?"

Though that was exactly what Sandor now wanted to do with the guy who asked, he controlled his temper by breathing deeply.

"Like I said, it wasn't my night," he replied, and refused to be drawn into it further.

He'd just finished his first bottle of beer, and was starting to mellow out while listening to the inane conversation around him when he caught sight of Sansa. Joffrey was holding her hand and leading her from the living room, into the yard. Sandor paused to watch them, noting the straight line of Joffrey's mouth which indicated that he was unhappy.

The pair of them stopped at a bench close to where Jeyne and the cheerleaders sat, and Joffrey shooed one of the occupants of the bench away, before taking a seat, and pulling Sansa down into his lap. For her part, Sansa stayed silent, but Sandor could see that she did not look happy either.

Joffrey had told him earlier that Sansa had been missing his calls, and had avoided sitting with the group recently. Maybe they'd had a spat? He wondered.

_Not your problem._

He got up to get himself another beer, taking the long way through the yard to get back into the kitchen, and when he got there, he took his time. Inadvertently, he overheard parts of conversations around him.

"Did you see them? They were arguing in the living room!" he heard one girl say to her friend.

"Really? Did you hear what they were arguing about?"

"He was accusing her of cheating on him again..."

Sandor knew exactly who the girls were talking about, confirming his earlier suspicion. He sincerely hoped that the Gossip Spyder would not hear of this. Slowly, Sandor made his way back out into the yard, but he paused just inside the doorway of a room that looked out into the yard. He had a good view of Sansa and Joffrey from where he stood, and unable to help himself, he stared at Sansa.

She was wearing dark, skintight jeans and a white long-sleeved blouse that was made if some floaty, semi-transparent fabric. When she moved and the light from the portable floodlight nearby hit her at a certain angle, he could make out the outline of her breasts and the curve of her waist underneath. His mouth suddenly felt parched.

Sandor took a sip of his beer, but it didn't help. _You shouldn't have looked, you idiot!_ He had been about to turn around, when Sansa suddenly jerked in Joffrey's arms. Sandor paused, and frowned when he saw one of Joffrey's hands curl into Sansa's upper arm...and he found himself moving closer, hiding himself behind a pillar, wanting to hear what they were saying.

"...Who is it, Sansa?" Joffrey was hissing.

"There's no one, Joffrey," Sansa hissed back, "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"Then why won't you let me touch you?" Joffrey's other hand slipped down the side of Sansa's thigh.

"You're drunk," Sansa flinched from his touch, which only angered him further.

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Joffrey's voice was starting to rise, and Sansa started to get up from his lap, but Joffrey held her down, "Stay right where you are."

"I want to get up, Joffrey," Sansa said quietly.

Sandor now saw that people around them were starting to notice what was going on, and Sansa was doing her best to ignore them. Joffrey was gearing up for another public confrontation.

"I didn't know you'd be such a prude," Joffrey took her face in between his hand, making her look at him, "Don't you find me attractive, Sansa?"

"Don't be stupid, Joffrey!"

"Stupid? You're calling me, stupid?" Joffrey clearly, had had too much to drink, and Sansa had just said the wrong thing.

"Let me go," she tried getting up again, only to have his fingers tighten around her wrist, "Please, Joffrey."

"I'm not letting you go until you start telling me the truth," Joffrey seethed, bringing his face close to hers.

"There's nothing to tell…_I never cheated on you_!"

"Why don't I believe you?" Joffrey squeezed her wrist, and Sansa yelped.

"Joffrey, stop it…" with obvious effort, Sansa twisted herself out from Joffrey's lap, but his grip on her wrist only got tighter, "You're hurting me!"

"Where are you running to?" Joffrey demanded, pulling her back to his side, "Why are you so eager to get away from me?"

"Joffrey…stop!" Sansa's voice was high and sharp, and Sandor grew concerned when he realized she was beginning to cry.

People were openly watching now, and Sansa was looking around, her eyes darting around the crowd as though hoping for someone to come and help her, but no one made a move.

"Enough."

Sandor realized that the rasping voice had come from his own mouth, and that he'd stepped out from behind the pillar. All eyes, were suddenly now on him.

"You?" Joffrey turned to Sandor, noticing him for the first time, "Mind your own business, Hound."

"She told you to stop," Sandor said, doing his best to keep his voice from rising.

He looked down to see where Joffrey was still gripping Sansa's wrist. _Let her go, you piece of shit!_

Sansa's eyes flocked to him in shock at his sudden appearance, but Sandor kept his eyes firmly on Joffrey.

"Let her go, Joffrey," he said calmly, "You're drunk, and you're creating a scene. You'll regret this when you're sober."

Sandor saw his grip on Sansa's wrist loosen slightly, and he looked at her pointedly, "Move it."

Sansa made to obey him, managing to free her arm, but she'd only taken two steps away from Joffrey when he suddenly stood up and reached out towards her. He caught the front of her blouse, and as he pulled, Sandor heard the delicate fabric of Sansa's blouse tearing and ripping, the sound of it seeming to echo in the silence that suddenly fell across the yard.

"She can go when I tell her to!" Joffrey shouted.

Sansa cried out in dismay as her blouse fell open, briefly revealing a scrap of pink lace. Sansa sobbed and tried to tug the material back together in vain.

"Let. Her. Go." Sandor now heard himself growl.

Joffrey glared at Sandor angrily, then back at the sobbing girl beside him. His face contorted with rage, and Sandor had a momentary fear that Joff was going to strike her, but he didn't. Instead he shoved her away from him, and caught off-balance, Sansa fell to the ground.

There was a collective gasp, before everyone became silent again, waiting for whatever came next.

"Frigid bitch!" Joffrey yelled down at her, "I don't know why I'm wasting my time with you!"

Then, ignoring everyone around them, Joffrey marched into the house.

In a few short strides Sandor was kneeling in front of Sansa. He shrugged his letterman jacket off and quickly draped it around her shoulders, noting how it engulfed her small frame completely. She clutched at the white wool, pulling it across her chest to cover herself. She didn't look at him, and he didn't touch her.

Looking around, he made eye contact with Jeyne and Randa who had yet to recover from their shock.

"Jeyne…Randa, get her out of here."

Both girls snapped out of it and quickly came running to Sansa's side. Sandor stood up, then glared at everyone still staring at him.

"What the hell are you all still looking at?"

He spared one last glance at the still sobbing Sansa, before he stalked off into the night. He didn't want to stick around just in case he did something foolish, like taking her into his arms. He'd done what he could for her, and now there was nothing left for him to do but walk away.


	18. Episode 18 To Fly Again

**Hi everyone! So I finished this chapter earlier than expected! **

**I have some thank you's to go out to 'sandorspotato', 'karlybing' and 'noodlesplease' over on Tumblr for some more fabulous fanart! The links are on my profile if you wish to see them (and I reccomend that you do!). This was a tricky chapter to write, but seriously, when have I ever posted a chapter that didn't have drama in it?**

**I hope you like it, and thanks again for your reviews and patience!**

* * *

**Episode 18**

"**To Fly Again"**

**Gossip Spyder**

Breaking news everyone! Have I got some shocking gossip for you this fine, Saturday morning!

Several guests at Boros Blount's party last night have emailed and sent text messages talking about another very public confrontation between Sansa Stark and Joffrey Baratheon.

My sources say that an intoxicated Joffrey was overheard accusing Sansa of cheating on him (again!), and that they were witnessed in a brief scuffle, that resulted in Sansa's top being torn. My sources also say that the quarrel was ended only by the intervention of the Hound, Sandor Clegane!

Oh. My. God!

Will this spell the end for Sansa and Joffrey? I'll let you know if I hear anything more!

…This so totally overshadows the loss suffered by our _White Knights _to the Lhazar High _Rams_…

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

* * *

**Sansa**

It was barely past ten in the morning, and the usual Saturday morning atmosphere within Chateau Maegor was uncharacteristically subdued. Sansa was sitting on top of her bed with her legs crossed under her. She'd been in the same position for the last hour, clutching a stuffed toy from her childhood to her chest, and staring at Sandor's letterman jacket which was folded over the back of her chair.

There was no sound coming from the TV room where most Saturdays, her brothers could be found watching cartoons. Arya was with them, ensuring that they did not disturb their parents.

The silence was, every now and then, punctured by the sound of raised voices coming from the direction of her father's office. They were arguing about her…or rather, what they had discovered about her earlier that morning.

The day had started much as it usually did on a Saturday morning, with the entire family gathering in the informal dining room for breakfast. Sansa had been quiet, avoiding Arya's eyes, only answering questions directed at her and not contributing much to the conversation at the table.

Everything had begun normally…until Rickon had asked her to pass the bacon, and the sleeve of her jersey cotton sweater had slid up her arm, revealing a large, purplish bruise covering most of her wrist and forearm…all under her father's nose.

"Sansa, what is that on your arm?" he'd asked.

Sansa had immediately tried to snatch her arm back, but her father proved to be faster than her, and his own hand had flashed out to grab her, keeping her arm in the air. He'd given her a glance, before purposefully pushing back her sleeve.

Her mother had gasped loudly, and at the same time Arya had hissed '_that jerk'._

"Sansa?" her father's tone had then become forbidding, "_Who_ _did_ _this_ _to_ _you?_"

She had lowered her eyes and hadn't been able to respond. Instead, she'd tugged her arm out of her father's grasp, and hid it under the table. An uncomfortable silence had settled over her family, but her father had no intention of letting her go without an answer.

"Cat, will you excuse us," her father had said to her mother, before standing up from the table, "Sansa, come with me."

Obeying, she had followed her father into his office where he had her sit down in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, before he'd pulled up a footstool in front of her and taken a seat. There had been a frown between his brows, and concern in his grey eyes.

"I'm not blind, Sansa," he'd said, "Someone hurt you, and I want to know who it was."

Her breath had snagged then, and a hundred different thoughts had flashed through her mind, but only one thought stood out, brighter and louder than the rest.

_Joffrey will never lay his hands on me again._

"Father," her voice had come out wobbly, "Dad, I'm so sorry…"

"Go on, Sansa," he'd coaxed, "You're not in any trouble, I promise you. I just want to help you."

"I should have said something…I should have listened to Arya when she tried to warn me about him…she knew all along what kind of person he was and I didn't listen!" Sansa had started shaking, and her father had reached out to take her hands.

"Are you saying that…that _Joffrey_ did this to you?"

"Yes," Sansa had looked up to see the look of shocked horror written all over his face, and she found herself continuing, "He did this, because he thought I was cheating on him…but I never cheated on him! I swear it! I never did anything to him, but he's got this awful temper!"

And then suddenly she'd been crying, and her father had been pulling her into his arms like he had when she'd been a little girl, patting her back to try and soothe her.

"Did he hit you? Has he _ever _struck you, Sansa?" her father had asked, and she'd felt the tension in him as the words had left his mouth.

She'd shaken her head against his shoulder, and some of that tension had eased, but only marginally.

"No, he's never hit me. He just blows up so easily...and he gets so jealous, and he kept accusing me of things I never did!"

"How many times has he physically hurt you?"

"Twice, dad...just twice," she'd replied.

"That's twice too many," he'd returned, "Sansa, a true gentleman will _never_ harm a woman."

"I know," she'd nodded, suddenly feeling disappointed with herself, "I don't know why I let him get away with it."

"He won't be getting away with it," her father had said grimly, "Trust me on that."

After he had extracted the details of what had transpired during both instances that Joffrey had hurt her, Sansa had been sent to her room, and her father had then called Arya into his office.

"Sansa," her sister had stopped her in the hall as she'd passed her on the way, "Sandor called me last night, so I knew...but, Gossip Spyder's just posted about it. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Sansa had said, before brushing by her to get to her room.

Everyone at school would now know about it before the weekend was out. The Spyder's post would make sure of that.

Sansa knew that her father would be questioning her sister about what she might know about Joffrey's physical violence towards her, and she knew Arya would not be dulling it down by any means.

Sometime later, their mother had gone into the office with her father, and soon after that came the sound of their raised voices.

"You have to do something about this, Ned!" Sansa had heard her mother say.

"I intended to, but we have to handle this right!"

Sitting on her bed, Sansa imagined that her parents were probably wondering where they had failed her, and why she hadn't come to them sooner to ask for their help. She wouldn't be able to say anything to them to let them know that they hadn't failed her. She had failed herself.

Joffrey might have been the cause of her misery, but she could have chosen to end it much sooner, if she hadn't been so caught up with worrying about rumors and gossip, and what people at school would think of her.

If only she hadn't let herself become so consumed about her crush on a guy who was dating her sister...and if only she hadn't become so intent on letting everyone know that everything in her world was just perfect.

Sansa collapsed on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. _How did I get like this? I don't even recognize me anymore! I'm better than this...I know I am!_

The same thoughts and questions had been going through her mind ever since Jeyne and Randa had brought her home the night before. It seemed that it had taken her being pushed to the ground - literally, being pushed as low as she could go - for her to realize just how much she had suppressed her true self.

_For what? For the sake of popularity? For the sake of saving face? For the sake of pretending that I don't care and that nothing can hurt me?_

"I can't believe he did that to you, Sansa!" Randa had exclaimed, "You can't let him treat you like that any longer."

"Sansa, you have to do something," Jeyne had said in a voice that shook, "For a moment there I thought he was going to...I thought he might..."

"So did I Jeyne," Sansa had said truthfully.

There had been that one moment, right before Joffrey had pushed her aside, that she had thought he was going to hit her. She wondered if he would have, had Sandor not been there.

Sandor's appearance at her side had taken her by surprise that night. She'd believed he wouldn'tbe going to Blount's party, but he seemed to have a habit of showing up whenever she needed saving, and she was thankful for whatever had brought him there. She would find out in the morning that Arya had not been with him, and she had been thankful that her sister did not have to witness the incident, too.

Sitting in the back of Randa's car, engulfed in Sandor's letterman jacket, Sansa had finally..._finally_...come to a decision about herself.

"Enough." Sandor had said.

_Enough indeed_, she had agreed. She had to do something, and she decided it was time she got her identity back.

There was a knock on her door, breaking her out of her reverie. Sansa sat up to find her parents at the threshold, and she looked at them expectantly.

"Sansa," her mother began, "We've contacted Joffrey's father. He said that he can be here in an hour, if you feel up to discussing Joffrey's actions towards you."

"Joffrey's not going to be with him, is he?" Sansa asked with some alarm, "I don't want him here."

"No," her father was quick to assure her, "Robert will deal with him on his own."

"Fine," Sansa nodded, "I'll speak to Mr. Baratheon."

When Robert Baratheon arrived an hour later, he was accompanied by Joffrey's uncle Tyrion Lannister, much to Sansa's surprise.

The dwarf had nodded to her politely, and something in the way he looked at her told Sansa that he was well aware of what was going on, and that he was not surprised.

_He knows,_ she thought. _He knows exactly what Joffrey is capable of._

Ever since the day of the riot, when he and Renly Baratheon had stayed behind to ensure that she and Sandor were safe, she'd regarded Tyrion Lannister with a certain level of respect. He was accompanying Robert Baratheon for a reason, and she didn't mind his presence.

"Cersei insisted I bring him along," she heard Robert say to her father, "He's more diplomatic than I am, she says."

"This is no joke, Robert," her father had rebuked.

"Believe me, I'm not taking it as such."

In her father's office, with her mother by her side, Sansa revealed her bruised forearm. There had been silence while Joffrey's father and uncle took in the evidence of his violence, before Tyrion had spoken.

"There were witnesses to his behavior, you say?" Tyrion directed the question to Sansa's father.

"Dozens of students," her father replied, "Both at the school, and again at the party last night."

Robert had sighed, before turning his attention to Sansa.

"Please accept my apologies, Sansa. The boy will not go unpunished," Robert declared, and looked at Sansa with a determined expression in his eyes, "I gather you won't be Joffrey's girlfriend anymore after this, and I can't blame you for that. He will not lay another finger on you. If he does, I'm shipping him off to military school. That, I promise you."

Sansa had excused herself after that, and the adults had closed the door to discuss what had to be done next. Later still, after Joffrey's father and uncle had left, her mother had come to her room to make sure that she was okay.

"Sansa," her mother began as she'd sat on the edge of her bed, "I need you to speak to me. I need you to tell me what's going through your mind."

Sansa knew what she really meant. Her mother wanted to know if she was okay, mentally. She smiled at her mother.

"Mom, I'll be fine now," she assured her, "I've had a chance to think, and I've realized that I've spent so much time pretending to be someone that I'm not, and I could have stopped this so much sooner…I won't make that mistake again."

"I'm glad to hear it," Catelyn returned her smile gently, "But, I want you to understand that nothing excuses Joffrey's behavior. You are not to blame for anything that he has done to you. You did not deserve to be treated that way, no matter what he has told you."

"I know, mom," Sansa assured her, "I promise you, I will be fine."

After offering her more words of assurance and comfort, her mother eventually left her alone.

Sansa had always known that Joffrey's treatment of her, and behavior towards her had always been lacking. At the start, she might have been attracted to him because he was handsome, athletic and popular. He was, seemingly, the perfect boyfriend. But now, she realized she had only been attracted to the idea of the perfect boyfriend…she'd never really been attracted to Joffrey to begin with.

_I never wanted him_, she thought. _Not in the way that I want Sandor._

Sansa's eyes drifted to Sandor's jacket that still hung over the back of her chair. In three short steps, she'd picked it up and buried her nose in it, trying to catch the faint traces of his scent that clung to the fabric. Embarrassingly, she'd done the same thing for most of the previous night.

His jacket had been warm when he'd first draped it around her shoulders, carrying the heat of his body, and warming more than just her chilled skin. She'd wrapped herself in the white wool, seeking comfort in its confines the way she wanted to seek comfort from its owner.

She hadn't been able to bear taking it off after she'd snuck into her room the night before, and she'd fallen asleep on top of her covers still wearing it. It had been almost a physical pain to her that morning when she'd had to take it off to shower and change.

The fabric was cold now, and she sighed. _Wanting someone who doesn't want you back isn't healthy, either._ She thought, and hung the jacket back over the chair.

* * *

**Arya**

Arya paused at the landing outside Sansa's bedroom. She'd come to let her know that the chef had prepared lunch, if she was hungry, but the sight of her sister – or more accurately, what she saw her doing – through the partially opened door made her stop mid-step.

Sansa was clutching what was unmistakably a letterman jacket to her chest, with the lower half of her face buried in the folds of the collar. Sansa was standing at an angle that allowed Arya to clearly read the name embroidered on the back…CLEGANE.

_Whoa_…Arya's jaw dropped a little, and a sudden thought came to her mind. _No…she couldn't possibly…could she?_

Just the week prior, Sansa had been confessing to her about kissing Sandor. Now, Arya was standing there watching her sister hugging Sandor's jacket.

_Oh, my God! _Arya had to cover her mouth to stifle her gasp. _She likes him!_

All of a sudden, Sansa's recent odd behavior began to make sense, and Arya had an almost overwhelming urge to barge into her room and demand the truth out of her. _It's so obvious! Why didn't I figure this out when she told me she'd kissed him?_

Could it really be possible that Sansa had a crush on Sandor? If there was even the slightest chance, and by the way her sister continued to cling to his jacket, Arya was willing to bet that there was a good chance, then there was a possibility that it could change _everything_.

_I have to be absolutely certain about this_.

It went against everything she thought she knew about her sister, and she hesitated. Sansa developing a crush on a guy like Sandor Clegane was just so uncharacteristic of the sister she had grown up with, and Sansa had enough going on with all the mess about Joffrey. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, and Arya decided to hold her tongue for the time being. She needed to know for sure, and when she did find out…well, she would decide what to do then, she thought.

_If I tell Sandor and I end up being wrong, it could fuck him up even more. Should I tell him? Should I tell Sansa about him? They could end up together!_

Arya couldn't quite comprehend that she was actually contemplating the idea of Sandor and her sister dating, but she realized that if she had to see Sansa with a guy, then Sandor wasn't a bad choice. True, he could be rude and bad-tempered, but underneath his badass persona the guy had proved surprisingly considerate.

Her time as his fake girlfriend had, at least, shown her that Sandor was capable of caring and defending the people that he cared about. Arya antagonized him on purpose whenever she could, and yet the big brute seemed to watch out for her, like he had the previous night when he'd stepped in before Gendry could start questioning her about just what it was that Jaqen's text message had read. He was almost brotherly towards her, at times. There was also that night he'd saved her from those two drunks in Flea Bottom, and though they never talked about that night, they were both well aware she'd been in deep shit until he'd come along.

He cared about her sister, too. There was no denying that.

"Joff and your sister had another public fight," was all he'd said to her, in clipped tones over the phone the night before, "He grabbed her and tore her blouse –"

"He, _what_?"

"Accident, I think," Sandor had spat, "But, it was bad. I had to step in."

"Sandor, what the hell happened –?"

"Just check on her, okay? I've got to go."

"Sandor?"

He'd hung up without going into detail, and she'd had to try and figure out what had happened by herself. She'd heard her sister's footsteps on the landing not too long after Sandor's hurried call, but she hadn't heard a car pull into the driveway, which meant Sansa had made whoever dropped her off let her out at the gate. Sansa hadn't wanted anyone to hear her come home.

Even after reading Gossip Spyder's post, it wasn't until she'd seen the bruises on Sansa's forearm that she understood what had made Sandor step in. He really cared for Sansa. Despite whatever heartache he was suffering because of her, he still came through for her when she needed him, whether Sansa knew it or not.

Sandor Clegane would be an infinitely better boyfriend to Sansa than Joffrey Baratheon.

She watched Sansa fold the jacket back over the seat, and Arya finally knocked on her door before sticking her head in.

"Arya," Sansa said, then looked to the jacket that she was still touching, "I was going to give this to you…so you can give it back to Sandor."

"Oh," Arya thought quickly, "You can hold on to it…you can give it back to him yourself. I imagine you'd…um, want to thank him, or something."

"I'm sure he knows I'm grateful –"

"It would still be better if you told him yourself." Arya insisted, and she was glad that Sansa chose not to argue further.

"Yes, of course. You're right."

Sansa withdrew her hand from Sandor's jacket, and folded her arms across her stomach. She looked self-conscious, and uncomfortable in Arya's presence, but Arya felt she had to say something else.

"So, what are you going to do now?" she asked.

Sansa gave her a look, "I thought it would be obvious...I'm going to break up with Joffrey. I can't be with him after what he's done to me."

Arya already knew that Sansa was going to break up with Joffrey. She'd overheard their parents make a comment about it earlier, but hearing it from Sansa's own lips made her feel such an immense sense of relief.

"Aren't you going to say it?" Sansa asked her.

"Say what?" Arya gave her a questioning look.

"_I told you so_," Sansa replied, "Aren't you going to say it?"

Arya did not have it in her to feel affronted by the fact Sansa would assume she would do something like that. She'd done it so many times in the past about so many different things, but this time it was different.

She sighed, and shook her head.

"No," she looked her sister in the eyes, "You deserve better. You didn't deserve to be treated the way he treated you,"

And before Sansa could say anything more, Arya backed towards the door, "Anyway, I just came to let you know that lunch is ready, if you're hungry."

She fled Sansa's room and headed back down to the kitchen for lunch. It had become uncomfortable being in the room with Sansa, too. She was sick of all the subterfuge and lies, and quite frankly, she couldn't wait until she could put it all behind her.

Sansa was going to be a single girl again, soon. _I've got to end this bullshit with Sandor,_ Arya decided. If her hunch was right about her sister, then it was best that Sandor was also a 'single' guy again as soon as possible.

She sighed. It wasn't just because of Sansa that she had to 'break up' with Sandor. She couldn't make Jaqen or Gendry wait indefinitely for her to make up her mind. Jaqen had texted her, and reminded her of her promised third date. He now wanted her to name a day.

"I am missing you, lovely girl. I am hoping that you have by now, chosen a day...I hope also to continue what we started that day, backstage..."

Jaqen's message had made her blush as she'd remembered just what had happened that day, and as her mind had conjured up the memory of his fingers against the skin of her neck. Knowing that Gendry had been watching her read Jaqen's message had made her blush deeper, feeling embarrassed, and just a little guilty.

She'd spoken to Jaqen over the phone several times that week, but on each occasion she'd managed to avoid committing to a day.

"I am jealous, Arya," he'd said during one conversation, "It is hard knowing that each day the Bull gets to see you at school. I wish I could see you even just half as often."

Arya knew that it would only take a hint of encouragement, and Jaqen would drive to King's Landing to see her. She could tell that an invitation was all he was waiting for, but she was mindful of his busy schedule, and of possibly leading him on, so she said nothing. She didn't need to tell him that outside of school, she purposely made sure she wasn't in Gendry's company alone.

Yet, she had to make a choice, so she resolved to give him his third date...and after that, she would wait and see. _My heart is supposed to know, right? My heart is supposed to tell me which guy is right for me? _Arya mused as she finished her lunch, and wondered why her heart was choosing not to communicate with her head.

"Arya," she looked up and found her father standing in the dining room doorway, "When you've finished eating, could you please come and see me in my office?"

"Yes, father." Arya nodded, and hoped she wasn't in some kind of trouble.

He and her mother had already questioned her about everything she knew about Joffrey's treatment of Sansa, and she hoped this wasn't more of the same. Nevertheless, after she'd finished her meal, she made her way to her father's office.

"You wanted to see me, father?" she asked, pausing just inside the door.

"Come and take a seat, Arya," he indicated the same seat that Sansa had occupied earlier that day, "I wanted to discuss something with you."

"What is it?" she closed the office door behind her, and sat down in front of him.

Her father looked at her seriously, and Arya got the distinct feeling that whatever he had to say to her was important.

"I heard you've been asking some questions, Arya," his grey eyes, an exact match to hers, fixed her to her chair, "I'd like to talk to you about your friend, Gendry Waters."

* * *

**Gendry**

The entire school was abuzz with talk of the latest Joffrey and Sansa public fight, and speculation was rife about what really happened that night at Blount's party. Gendry had heard three versions of the fight, from three different people who all swore that they were there and who'd witnessed it for themselves. Some believed that Joffrey had purposely torn Sansa's blouse, others believed he'd pushed her to the floor, and still there were others who believed Joffrey actually had struck her that night.

"What's the deal?" Gendry asked Hot Pie when he saw him during homeroom, "Have you spoken to Arya?"

"Yeah, I picked her up this morning."

Hot Pie quickly brought Gendry up to date on what actually happened between Sansa and Joffrey, as told to him by Arya.

"She's finally had enough, huh?" Gendry asked, referring to Sansa, "She's really going to dump him?"

"That's what Arya said," Hot Pie confirmed.

"It's about time," Gendry said, though he didn't express that he was relieved for more than the obvious reason.

Sure, he was relieved that Sansa was finally going to get out of a poisonous relationship, but he was also glad because it meant Arya would be able to put an end to her fake relationship with the Hound. He might have stopped wanting to slug the guy, but he still did not like seeing them hold hands on the rare occasions that they did, or seeing Sandor sit next to Arya everywhere they went. He did his best _never_ to remember the images of Arya and Sandor kissing, because they just made him want to punch walls again.

He seriously couldn't wait for Arya to be free again, because once it was public knowledge, he'd be stepping up his pursuit of her. He was going to make it known that he was after Arya Stark. He wasn't just going to step aside and give her up for Jaqen H'ghar. _Arya will have to convince me that she doesn't want me,_ he thought. _That's the only thing that will make me stop._

Gendry saw Sansa several times that morning, in passing in the hallway and once when she was exiting a classroom he was heading into. She nodded at him in the hallway, and smiled at him as she exited the classroom. There was nothing in her body language, or expression on her face that betrayed her awareness of the gossip surrounding her, or of her imminent break-up with Joffrey Baratheon.

In all honesty, he'd never really given Arya's sister much thought, but since Sandor Clegane had started sitting with them at lunch time, he'd actually found himself wondering what drew the guy to her. He would admit that she was pretty, and she was polite enough when their paths did cross, but from the things Arya had said about her, he couldn't imagine her as more than the shallow, giggly and foolish girl he saw at school.

At lunch time, on his way to his usual table, he happened to glance towards the 'popular' table and noticed that Sansa and her girlfriends Jeyne, Randa and Mya were missing. He found them seated at a smaller table away from their usual group. People in the quad were talking about them, and pointing out the obvious. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who'd noticed.

"Hey," he said to Arya who was already at their bench, "Notice something different?"

She'd been watching him as he'd approached their table, and as though she'd just realized he'd asked a question, she hastily glanced in the direction of her sister's group, "Oh, yeah."

Arya turned back to stare at him, and he ran his hand over his face self-consciously.

"Is there something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"There's nothing on your face," she shook her head and looked away again, "I was just thinking."

Hot Pie turned up a short time later, and Sandor was not far behind him. Gendry watched as people whispered behind their hands as the guy walked passed them, and wondered how he could manage to remain outwardly oblivious to it all.

Tellingly, the guy did not even spare a glance in the direction of Sansa's table, and this seemed to spur more talking amongst the students in the quad. Sandor took his seat beside Arya, and promptly ignored them all. Awkwardly, the rest of them tried to carry on a normal conversation around their silent companion, but they could not drown out the sound of conversations around them, and every now and then they would hear Sandor and Sansa's names being mentioned.

Gendry had been on the verge of suggesting they all just go for a drive until the hour was up, when Joffrey Baratheon, who had so far been absent from the quad, came barging through the cafeteria doors. He paused just outside of the cafeteria, and Gendry watched him look around the tables, until he found Sansa.

Gendry kicked Arya and Hot Pie under the table to get their attention, and caught Sandor's eye. The four of them then turned to watch whatever happened next.

"Sansa," Joffrey said as he approached her table, "We need to talk. _Now._"

Sansa turned in her seat, and even from across the quad, Gendry could see the determined set of her jaw, and a glint of something steely in her eyes. It was a look Gendry hadn't seen on her face before, at least, not the previous times he'd seen her confront Joffrey.

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of my friends," Sansa nodded to the three girls with her.

She kept her voice moderated, but it carried across the now largely silent quad. Everyone had stopped what they were doing, and were now watching Joffrey and Sansa. Noticing all eyes on them, Joffrey took a step closer to Sansa.

"You had to bring my father into it, didn't you?"

"It was _my_ father's idea," she corrected him.

"So, things got a bit rough and you went running to daddy?"

"He saw what you did, Joffrey," Sansa replied, "He saw my arm."

"I barely touched you –"

"You know what you did," Sansa spoke over him, and stood up from her seat to face him, "You were fully aware of what you were doing to me, and I'm not going to take anymore from you."

Joffrey stared at her as though she'd grown wings and a tail, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't want to be with you anymore, Joffrey," she declared flatly, and clearly so that there was no mistaking what she was saying, "I didn't want to have to do this publicly, like this, but you haven't given me a choice."

"You're breaking up with me?" Joffrey's face clouded over, and he took a step towards her.

"Stay back," Sansa held her hand up, "Touch me again, and all I have to do is say one word to your father."

There was a threat in her comment, and though none of them knew what it might entail, it was clear from the fury that suddenly stole over Joffrey's face that he understood what she meant.

"You're going to regret this," Joffrey hissed, "You're _nothing_ without me!"

With those final words, Joffrey spun on his heel and stomped back towards the cafeteria. Everyone kept watching Sansa, and she herself seemed to be trying to compose herself. Her eyes landed on someone, and Gendry only had to follow her gaze to realize she was looking at Sandor Clegane.

Suddenly, Sansa was grabbing her belongings and heading back towards the building as fast as her feet would take her.

"Sansa, wait!" her friend Jeyne called, running after her.

"I'd better go after her," Arya said across the table from Gendry, and a second later she was dashing after her sister.

There was a moment's pause after Arya disappeared through the cafeteria doors, and then as one, everyone in the quad began talking.

"She dumped him!"

"I can't believe it!"

"Did you see that?"

"What did she mean about her arm?"

"Her father got involved?"

About a minute later, there was a chorus of beeps and chimes in the quad as phones went off almost simultaneously. Gendry shook his head.

"That was quick," Hot Pie muttered, before reaching for his phone and reading out aloud, "Yep, it's Gossip Spyder..._breaking news, Sansa Stark has broken up with Joffrey Baratheon...details to come._"

Gendry turned his attention to Sandor. The guy still hadn't said a word, but Gendry could see his hands balled into fists on top of the table, and felt the tension rolling off him in waves.

"Its official now," Gendry said, "Sansa's single again."

Sandor's flexed his fingers, and he finally returned Gendry's stare, "So?"

"I thought you'd be happy about this," Gendry frowned.

Sandor snorted, "She's rid of that jerk, but she'll be some other guy's girl again, soon. Girls like Sansa don't stay single for long."

"Why can't her next guy be you?"

"Me?" Sandor gave him an incredulous look, before he pointed at his face, "Do you see this face? Girl's like Sansa do not go out with guys with faces like mine."

"So, you're saying that she's shallow? You're telling me that she won't be able to look past your scars?" Gendry challenged.

Steely grey eyes narrowed at him in a warning, but not before Gendry had seen the uncertainty written in them. Gendry could see that he'd stumbled on a sore spot for the Hound. The guy genuinely feared that Sansa would not be able to get beyond his physical disfigurement.

"Stay out of it, Waters," Sandor stood up, but Gendry blocked his path before he could take a step, "Move."

"End it with Arya," Gendry said quietly, and watched Sandor's eyes narrow even further, "Her sister's safe. You don't need to keep pretending."

Sandor scowled at him, "When it suits me."

The guy shouldered past him, and Gendry released a frustrated breath. He'd been trying to understand why Arya had agreed to keep pretending to date Sandor, even after the Spyder had stopped talking about Sansa and her supposed mystery date, but Arya hadn't been willing to elaborate.

"He's using Arya, like a shield," Hot Pie suddenly said.

Hot Pie had been watching his exchange with Sandor. Gendry had chosen to come clean about his feelings for Arya the week before. He had not wanted to continue hiding the truth from his friend. When told, Hot Pie had barely batted an eyelid, proving Gendry's earlier hunch that the guy had, at least, already suspected his true feelings.

"I knew it," his friend had said, "You've been acting funny around her for weeks, but something happened at the Battle of the Bands, because now you're both tiptoeing around each other."

"I kissed her," Gendry had confessed, and his friend had merely smirked in response.

So far, Hot Pie had been pretty good at boosting his confidence where Arya was concerned, and Gendry was grateful to have someone to talk to.

"What do you mean by that? He's using Arya like a shield, how?" Gendry now asked, still not understanding.

"I mean, I think he's hiding behind Arya," Hot Pie's expression turned thoughtful, but it just made him look like he'd eaten something that made his stomach queasy, "He's hiding something."

"Hiding what? Besides his feelings for Sansa, that is, and who would he be hiding it from?"

"_That_ could be it," Hot Pie nodded as something clicked in his head, "Maybe he's hiding his feelings _for _Sansa, _from_ Sansa."

"But, we already knew that," Gendry pointed out, "He doesn't want anyone to know, especially Sansa."

"I didn't say it made sense," Hot Pie scratched his head, "I'm just telling it how I see it."

Gendry thought back on something Arya had said to him, "_Something happened between him and my sister. You don't need to know the details_."

He then recalled the expression on Sansa's face just moments after breaking up with Joffrey, when her eyes had found Sandor and her whole cool and collected demeanor seemed to crumble and she'd fled the quad.

Evidently, there was more to their story than met the eyes, and he was wondering whether it was in his best interest to find out. If it meant Arya would be 'free' from Sandor sooner, then he would do what he could, if given the chance, he thought. He gave Hot Pie a look.

"You might be onto something," he nodded at his friend, "When did you get so perceptive?"

"Hmm...you know that thing I like to do in my spare time?"

"What? Baking?"

"Yes," Hot Pie agreed, "Well, when I'm working the pastry or stewing the fruit filling, I get a lot of time to think."

Gendry rolled his eyes.

Arya sent him a text message during class later that day to tell him that her sister was okay, and that between herself and Jeyne, they had been able to calm Sansa down after her very public breakup with Joffrey. Arya had also told him that she had a paper for English to finish, and she'd be heading straight home after school.

"Have fun at band rehearsal," she'd signed off.

He'd noticed that she had been avoiding him, if the situation meant she would have to be alone with him. The surprisingly perceptive Hot Pie had told him it was because Arya didn't want to seem like she was favoring him over Jaqen, and vice versa, so she'd been avoiding both of them. That was little consolation to him, because it meant she was still sitting on the fence, and her indecision worried him.

He was just a regular guy from an extremely humble background, and he didn't feel that he had the same confidence and charisma that Jaqen H'ghar wielded. All he had to offer Arya, was right there for her to see. He just hoped that he would be enough.

When the final class of the day ended, Gendry stopped to chat to Edric Dayne for a few minutes about some things related to an up-coming gig, before telling him he'd see him at The Hollow later for practice. He then made his way to the performing arts building where he'd commandeered one of the full-sized lockers to store his Les Paul in while he was in class.

He had been about to exit the building after collecting his guitar, when he thought he heard music coming from one of the music rooms. He paused to listen, and after some moments, he heard the unmistakable sound of a badly tuned acoustic guitar, and someone trying to play it. Curiosity as well as pity for the poor instrument, made him seek out both instrument and musician.

Gendry never expected to find Sansa Stark, but by the time he recognized the red hair and its owner, she was already looking at him, and it was too late for him to back out of the classroom.

"Gendry," she offered him a weak smile, "Hi."

"Uh...hi," he spotted the guitar in her arms, "I heard music."

Sansa nudged the instrument she was balancing on her knee, "I wouldn't call what I was playing music."

Gendry laughed, "Okay, I came to rescue the poor guitar," he walked across the room and pulled a chair over next to Sansa, before he indicated that she hand the instrument over, "It's not tuned, that's why it sounds awful."

Sansa watched him work on tuning each individual string, before he experimentally ran through a few chords and some improvised tunes until he was satisfied with the sound.

"Here you go," he offered the guitar back to her, but she held her hands up in refusal.

"Are you kidding?" she asked him, finally giving him a genuine smile, "My attempts do not compare to your awesomeness. I'd just embarrass myself!"

Gendry laughed again, but kept hold of the guitar and strummed more chords absently to avoid plunging the room in silence. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but he was conscious of the fact he'd interrupted a private moment. Sansa's expression had been glum and she'd clearly been very unhappy when he'd first walked in, but now, she was smiling and she continued to smile as he played.

It occurred to him then, like it hadn't before, that they had music in common.

"Uh...what were you trying to play earlier, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Was it really that unrecognizable?" Sansa made a face, before reaching for some sheets of paper on the table next to her, "I was trying to play _Daydreamer._"

Gendry took the sheets of paper, and found he was looking at guitar tablature, "Adele, huh?"

"Do you know it?"

"I've heard it a few times," Gendry shrugged, "Have you played guitar before?"

"Not really," Sansa admitted, slightly embarrassed, "Someone left the tablature behind, and the guitar was here when I came in."

Gendry read the tabs and began to pluck the opening bars, picking up the tune very quickly.

"Do you know the lyrics, Sansa?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she replied, "I guess."

"Then, what are you waiting for?" he grinned at her, "Start singing!"

With a laugh of her own, Sansa waited for Gendry to repeat the intro, before she began to sing.

"_Daydreamer, sittin' on the sea, soakin' up the sun..._"

Gendry had only heard her sing once before, on the day that she auditioned for the school choir, and he recalled being stunned by the sound of her singing voice. He marveled at the sound of it again as he sat there listening and accompanying her. Then there was more to marvel at than just her voice. Gendry watched in pleasant surprise as a physical change came over Sansa as she continued to sing.

Her face seemed to light up, her blue eyes sparkled, and the tension in her shoulders vanished. The girl sitting next to him, at that moment, was almost unrecognizable to the girl he'd been seeing walking around school the past few weeks.

_Is this the Sansa Stark that Sandor sees?_ He wondered. There was an openness and honesty about her then, and for a moment he was able to glimpse past the artifice and shallowness, and he saw something about her that he found attractive. _If this is how Sandor sees her, if this is who she really is, then maybe I've judged her too quickly._ Gendry hoped that he would get to see more of the real Sansa Stark, now that she had broken up with Joffrey.

The song ended, and Gendry let the notes of the guitar fade into silence, just as he watched the light that had briefly shone in Sansa fade away. Gendry stayed quiet, and eventually it was Sansa who spoke first.

"Thanks, Gendry," she said, "That was fun."

"You're welcome," Gendry stood up and placed the guitar into the stand he saw nearby.

"I probably should have gone to choir practice," she continued, "I skipped it today, because…well..."

"Yeah, I understand. You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."

Gendry could understand the whole being unsociable after a break-up thing, but frankly he wasn't certain he wanted to be having this conversation with Sansa, yet leaving her right when it seemed like she needed someone to talk to would make him look like an ass.

Sansa gave a humorless laugh, "I'm sure you've heard all about it, though. What with Gossip Spyder posting about it two seconds after I broke up with him, and Arya being your friend…"

"Actually, Arya hasn't told me much," Gendry said, "She only ever tells us enough to get our facts straight. Gossip Spyder doesn't always get it right, you know?"

"You got _that_ right," Sansa agreed.

"Are…are you okay, though?" he asked rather awkwardly, and shifted from one foot to the other.

She gave him the same weak smile she'd given him earlier, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Good. That's great," Gendry nodded, and had been about to excuse himself when Sansa suddenly turned inquisitive eyes on him.

"Gendry, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Um…sure, I suppose," he didn't see how things could get any more awkward than they already were.

"I hope you'll be honest with me," she said.

"I'll try to be,"

"How long have you had feelings for Arya?"

_Right, things just got more awkward. _He thought, and he felt blood rush to his cheeks, "I…um…"

"I can tell that you like her, Gendry," Sansa continued, "I've been able to see it for some weeks."

"I didn't know that I was being obvious," he responded nervously, "I haven't really told anyone about it."

"Relax, you're secret's safe with me," she assured him.

"How did you know?"

"The way you look at her," she replied, "I can't really describe it, but it's in your eyes."

"Oh," Gendry's cheeks grew warmer, and he couldn't believe that he was actually blushing.

"Can I ask another personal question? You don't have to answer this one, if you don't want to, so no pressure."

"Okay, bring it on," he said, though he was still trying to recover from her first question.

"How did you feel when you found out that Arya was dating Sandor?"

He raised a brow and gave her an odd look. It was an odd question, but there was no reason for him not to answer her.

"I felt like breaking his jaw," he answered honestly, remembering the anger and jealousy that had raged through him at the time.

"And, do you still feel that way? I mean, he sits with you guys at lunch, now."

Gendry also remembered that Sansa knew nothing about the duplicitous nature of Arya and Sandor's relationship, and he sighed before finding the words with which to answer her. He still felt like breaking someone's jaw, but it was Jaqen H'ghar he pictured now, not Sandor.

"I still feel that she would be happier with me," he answered ruefully.

"Hmm," she shifted in her chair, and she lowered her gaze to the floor, "Does…does he treat her well?"

She'd spoken to the floor, and Gendry almost didn't hear her last question. He would have thought it a normal thing for a concerned sister to ask, but there was something in her tone that made him second-guess the intent behind her words.

"Sandor's okay," he replied quietly, "I had my doubts about him, but I have to admit, I don't think he would intentionally hurt her."

"That's good," Sansa acknowledged with a voice that seemed tremulous, before she looked back up at him, "Thanks for staying and talking to me. I didn't mean to keep you."

"Don't mention it," Gendry saw that as his cue to leave, and he picked up his guitar before stepping towards the exit, "Hey…I had fun, too. You're a great singer."

"Thank you," she offered him a final smile, letting him glimpse the real her again for a second, "See you later, Gendry."

After leaving the music room, he ran a hand through his hair, shook his head as though to clear it, and reached for his cell phone. He dialed Arya's number.

"What's up?" she greeted him.

"I've just had an odd conversation with your sister," he told her.

"What? You've been speaking with Sansa?"

"Yep, and it was strange…she was asking about Sandor."

"Did she? Did she really?" Arya's voice peaked with interest, "Tell me everything."


End file.
